


Hearts of Silver and Gold

by legendofbisexuals



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (3 years), Adultery, Alternate Universe - Forbidden Love, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Cheating, Created Mythology, Endgame Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mythology inspired by The 100, Side ships with endgame Clexa, Slight Age Difference, Slow Burn, There will be some Clarke/Aden by nature of them being.......engaged.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:08:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 51,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21710503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendofbisexuals/pseuds/legendofbisexuals
Summary: At fourteen, Clarke, the Princess of Skaikru, discovers she is to marry Aden, the Prince of Trikru. Their marriage will aid their kingdoms, once part of a great and powerful country torn apart by a civil war, fractured into thirteen clans.  When the princess is older and later arrives in Polaris to prepare for her marriage, she finds herself falling into the fairy tale love she’s always dreamed of but never dared to hope of having - only this love is not with her fiance, but with his sister, Princess Lexa, the soon to be Commander of the Imperial Trikru Army.Or: a forbidden lovers royalty AU.{user previously sapphicstardust}
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 357
Kudos: 804





	1. Prologue / I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I hope you enjoy this story. I've had this story in my head for years, and I'm finally writing it. After taking my medieval literature class this semester, I definitely knew I wanted to try my hand at writing this fic. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> There's some similarities with the story of Arthur/Guinevere/Launcelot, and yes, it's intentional. You don't need to know Malory or any other Arthurian lit to get the fic though, so don't worry!
> 
> Note: by nature of being a story inspired by the whole cheating-on-Arthur-with-his-best-friend story line of Guinevere, there'll be some cheating in this fic. It's a forbidden love fic, after all. I'm not endorsing cheating or saying it's right, and if this isn't your type of thing, I totally get it! I'm just here for the angst.
> 
> Enjoy the fic! <3

_Prologue._

The little princess watched as the Skaikru priestesses danced. 

She followed their movements, watching the way their long white garments seemed to become one with the winds as they twirled. These women were all tall; they had hair as golden as the sun and faces as pale as the moon. The women were ornately decorated with gold and silver bracelets lining their forearms up to their elbows and silver barrettes holding golden hair back from their eyes. They looked so different than the priestesses of her homeland, all with dark hair, dark tattoos, and dark green garments. These women must be angels, the little princess thought.

She listened as they sang in harmony, bringing blessings down on the baby in the center of their ever-moving circle. The baby in question stared up at the dancing women, too, dressed in an elegant white gown of her own, spilling over the sides of her small woven bassinet. The little princess watched the baby carefully, hoping she wouldn’t cry. 

The dreamy sounds of the harps gradually slowed into stopping, the priestesses’ voices dimming, their movements halting. They all turned, curtseying toward the newborn—all but one. The high priestess moved closer to the bassinet, picking the child up with ease. The little princess watched in wonder as the high priestess lifted her up towards the sun, and the people cheered. 

The King and Queen thanked the priestesses, Queen Abigail taking her daughter in her arms. “We thank you all for being here for Princess Clarke’s blessing. Each of you invited is an ally, a friend - someone we hope Clarke grows to be like as Queen one day.” King Jacob’s loud voice boomed through the open field. 

“Join us in continuing the princess’s blessing as we each present a gift. King Jacob and I present Princess Clarke with the gift of her first royal tiara,” Queen Abigail said, extending her hand. One of the priestesses walked over with the small silver headpiece, circular so as to stay on the newborn’s head, and placed it gently over her golden curls. “We present Princess Clarke!” The crowd cheered again as the queen lifted her daughter once more, showing the newborn in the small circlet tiara. Gently, she placed the infant back in her bassinet.

The little princess watched as, one by one, the people made their way to the outdoor altar which the newborn rested on. Blessings and gifts of silver and gold, jewelry and crafts, sacred oils and perfumes, and more were laid on the altar around the baby. The little princess knew well what to do—she had just participated in the same ceremony for her baby brother the year before. Soon, it was her turn. She toddled onto the marble steps leading to the bassinet, climbing them one by one until she was face to face with the baby. 

Bright blue eyes, as blue as the sky, stared back at the little princess. The baby gave the older girl a little smile; a hiccup of a laugh escaped from her lips. King Jacob and Queen Abigail, on either side of their daughter, gave the little princess a reassuring smile. “Go on,” the queen told her.

The little princess cleared her throat. “Hi, Princess Clarke,” she said as practiced. “My name is Alexandria. This is for you,” she said, reaching into her dress pocket and pulling out a small box. “I hope we can be friends when we grow up,” Lexa smiled. She opened the small box, pulling the locket out and setting the box aside. Gently, she rested the locket on top of the baby’s stomach. 

* * *

_I._

Princess Clarke stared at her reflection. At fourteen, she was no stranger to makeup and various elegant hairstyles, but this seemed a bit excessive. The amount of rouge on her cheeks and kohl on her eyes was startling; she hardly looked like herself. Her golden curls were twisted into the band of her silver circlet tiara keeping her hair pulled up from touching the back of her neck. The hairstyle was beautiful but rather large. “I look ridiculous,” she said, frowning at her reflection. 

“You look like a modern princess, Clarke,” Queen Abigail said as she sat at the vanity beside her daughter. The queen's handmaidens were still doing Abigail's makeup; Clarke was forced to wait in the room until her mother was finished, though her own handmaidens had finished her dramatic makeup long before her mother even got started. 

She glanced at her necklace. Its cool silver hue complimented the dark blue of her gown nicely. In the shape of a heart, the locket was still empty inside; Clarke had never found something which she wished to keep by her heart—at least, not yet. She brought her lithe fingers to the locket, feeling it’s intricate patterns. She knew the princess of the Trikru had given it to her at her blessing; she couldn’t remember the day, but she had been told the story several times. It was the first time she had laughed, seeing the princess, as far as her relatives told her. She hadn’t seen the members of the royal Trikru family since her blessing. Although her parents made a few trips for varying reasons, Clarke was always to stay behind and continue her studies. Besides that brief, long ago encounter, Clarke had no relationship with either of the royal Trikru siblings and didn’t know what to expect of them.

Clarke got up from the vanity and walked to the large chest full of her jewelry on the other side of the beauty room. She opened the top drawer, lined with all the jewelry she was gifted with at her blessing, and reached for a small wooden box. After having placed the box safely in her dress pocket, Clarke made her way back to the vanity, sitting once more and watching as her mother's handmaidens continued their work.

Clarke exhaled, leaning back into the wooden chair. She was used to spending more time than she cared to in the beauty room of the palace; ever since she turned thirteen, her mother strictly enforced a rule wherein Clarke was to wear makeup each and every day, claiming that a princess should always be seen elegantly dressed and made up. “This makeup makes me look like you—a grown woman,” Clarke said, watching as the queen’s hair was pulled up into an elegant bun. 

“You are a grown woman, Clarke; you’ve had your first moon cycle,” Abigail said. “Lua blessed you last year, don’t forget.”

“Trust me,” Clarke scoffed. “It’s hard to forget when it happens,” she rolled her eyes.

“Can you please keep the attitude to a minimum today, Clarke?” Abigail sighed. “Today is a very important day for our kingdom.”

“It’s hardly about us,” Clarke said. “It’s Princess Alexandria’s birthday,”

“Yes,” the queen said, finally turning her head to face her daughter as her handmaidens finished. “And maintaining a good relationship with Trikru is vital.”

“Why?” Clarke asked. “I know they’re our strongest ally, but we’ve never gone to _birthday parties_ before. What’s changing?”

The queen gave her daughter an unsteady look, before shaking her head. “Clarke, darling, let the adults do the diplomatic worrying. You just focus on being polite, wishing the princess well, and befriending the prince and princess.” She looked back at her reflection, smoothing out a patch of rouge on her cheek. 

Clarke’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t call me a grown woman and a child in the same conversation, Mother,” she said, testily. “If you want me to be grown and wear this silly makeup and push my breasts out of my dress for the world to see, then let me at least know what our real intentions are for going to the princess’s birthday celebration.”

“Clarke, don’t question me,” Abigail said, standing. “You’re right. You are a grown woman, but you’re still my child, and I will treat you as such. Also, don’t speak so crudely of your body. It’s the fashion, darling, and as much as your father hates it, it will get you where you need to be.” Abigail paused. “Though, maybe put them back in a tad. We don’t want to kill your father before we arrive at Polaris.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, adjusting herself as she looked in the mirror. “And we’ll make it in time for the celebration?” She asked, looking at her mother through the mirror. “You only spent all morning getting ready.”

Abigail sighed. “Clarke, please, I beg of you, be civil with me for one day. When you’re older you’ll understand why this is such an important day for you.”

Clarke stood, walking towards her mother. “Or you could tell me now, so I know what to expect.”

Abigail rested her hands on Clarke’s shoulders, feeling the soft blue velvet of Clarke’s gown beneath her fingers. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

Clarke felt her heart drop. “The exports," she said knowingly. "How much trouble are we in? Is there nothing more the banks can do?”

Abigail hesitated, before shaking her head. “We aren’t the smallest of the nations, not by far, but we aren’t the largest, either. It is getting...difficult for us to export as much as we import, and I fear we’re making other nations upset. King Alexander, Queen Adelaide, your father, and I all have a meeting tomorrow morning after the party. They’re going to see how they can assist us, or what compromises we can find in helping each other.” 

“How can I help?” Clarke asked. 

The queen let go of her daughter, bringing her hands together behind her back. “Just be nice. Befriend Alexandria—there’s rumors that she’s...different, so she doesn’t have many friends. A strong friendship between you two will ensure a strong relationship between our nations. Befriend Prince Aden as well; he will be king one day, and being on his good side is imperative. He’s only a year older than you, so you two should get along just fine.”

“How is the princess different?” Clarke asked, watching as her mother struggled to find the proper response.

“Clarke,” Abigail started, before sighing. “Just...don’t give her any impressions of your...preference for women.”

Clarke’s mouth dropped. “Mother!” She said, her cheeks turning red. “Don’t be prude! If the princess likes women—”

“It isn’t discussed, Clarke.” Abigail said. “I don’t know for sure. She...has rejected every proposal which has come her way, which is well over twenty by now. She’s training with the Imperial Army to be their commander rather than stay and do her womanly duties. She’s reserved and quiet, she doesn’t befriend easily...it’s not hard to make the assumption,” the queen trailed off.

“Well, why does it matter? Trikru and Skaikru are not nations which forbid that kind of love,”

“But she is still a princess, Clarke, and has the same responsibilities as you. To marry a man, to bear his children, and to perhaps reign one day, if Sora forbid something happen to Aden,” Abigail said. “That lifestyle is not permitted for people like you and Alexandria, even if it isn’t forbidden for the common folk.”

“Well, perhaps she’s reserved and quiet because no one wishes for her to love,” Clarke said. “I would think you of all people would be more supportive; father married you for love despite your common status.”

“And it was a scandal the court barely got over,” Abigail said sternly. “But our relationship at least led to children, and your Uncle Marcus petitioned on our behalf, so it was permitted. Don’t mention anything to Alexandria about this; she very well could be normal and just a shy girl—”

“Mother, she’s _normal_ no matter whether she likes men or women,” Clarke challenged. “Your generation is so conservative with these things, even if it has been permitted since our founding! Sora, herself, loves both men and women in our scriptures—”

“Clarke, please,” Abigail began, “I was understanding when I found out about some of your...desires. You truly are a daughter of Sora,” Abigail sighed. “I wish, I really do, that you could be with whoever you fall in love with, boy or girl. But your duty comes before your happiness, my dear. I’m sorry. So does Alexandria’s.”

“I know _my_ place well,” Clarke challenged. “And I accept it. It won’t change who I am, though. And it doesn’t mean you can pass judgement on the princess.”

“I’m not asking you to change,” the queen said, tucking a stray curl framing Clarke’s face behind her ear. “Nor am I judging her. I am just asking you to remember your place and to remember hers as well. What is in your heart will never change, but there’s a certain set of responsibilities you girls must follow as royalty.”

“But—”

“Are my two beautiful girls ready?”

The voice of her father made Clarke fall silent. Clarke huffed, turning away from her mother. “How long will the trip be?”

“About seven hours,” her father responded. “We’ll arrive just in time for the ball, but only if we leave now. Have your maids packed your bags, ladies?”

Clarke and her mother both nodded. “The women took them to the carriage hours ago, love,” Abigail said. “Come, Clarke, let us go with your father.” The queen walked to her husband’s side, looping her arm through his.

Begrudgingly, Clarke followed. “How long are we staying, if we need so many suitcases?” She asked, walking along her father’s open side. He extended his arm to his daughter, as well, which she took with a smile.

“Perhaps only a few days, perhaps a week.” The king told his daughter. “Why? Homesick already?”

“No; I would have brought my charcoal had I known this visit would be more than a day. I fear I’ll become deathly bored.” Clarke laughed.

“I’ve heard Prince Aden is a lover of the arts as well. Perhaps you and he can spend time together painting,” Abigail said with a hint of something Clarke couldn’t quite detect in her voice. Whatever it was, it sounded scheming. Clarke scrunched her nose at her mother's tone and looked the other way.

“Perhaps,” Clarke said. Just to aggravate her mother, she added, “And maybe later, I’ll get Princess Alexandria alone and we can have a girl’s night,”

“I think that sounds wonderful, Clarke,” her father said obliviously. “You’re such a lovely girl, and it will do well for you two to become close friends.”

“Don’t worry, Father,” Clarke said, “I’ll make sure we’re the _closest_ of friends.”

“Clarke Elizabeth Griffin—” Abigail began, but the king cut her off. 

“Finally!” He exclaimed in cheer as they arrived in the courtyard. He led his wife and daughter to the carriage, waiting for them. “Off to Polaris, we go!”

* * *

The Griffin family arrived at the Trikru castle just before sunset. The royal family was ushered inside by the Trikru palace guards. Clarke took in the sight of the castle—it looked more like a fortress than anything else. It was large, built of gray stone; four large watch towers rose above the roof at each corner. Brilliant red and green flags lined the castle walls, the Trikru insignia proudly displayed on each one. The castle looked beautiful in front of the setting sun which painted the sky a lovely shade of dusted pink. 

Clarke walked behind her mother and father, smoothing down the skirt of her gown which had wrinkled during their long journey. She felt her pocket, ensuring that the box was still there. As they entered the castle and walked towards the large ballroom past the foyer, Clarke took notice of the variety of art pieces hanging on the walls. She stopped at one in particular; it was a portrait of a teenage girl. One of the palace guards halted beside Clarke. “That’s the princess,” he said, nodding towards the picture.

Clarke assessed it. It was rather beautiful. She could tell it was painted with the finest of oils, by the brush strokes and the layered texture of the image rested against the canvas. “Princess Alexandria?” She asked, staring into the green eyes of the girl. Clarke found herself unable to tear her eyes away from the princess’s painted ones, stunned by their vibrancy.

The guard nodded. “Prince Aden painted that last summer as a birthday present for her. She wanted it in the Grand Hall, so, here it is,”

“It’s lovely,” Clarke said, stepping closer. She analyzed the painting, tilting her head. “How long has the prince been trained in oil painting?” She assessed the portrait, taking in the tiny details. The princess was wearing what looked like a satin dress, a deep forest green color, with a golden tiara settled atop her head. Her long brown hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back in curls, though Clarke could see the faintest bit of small braids woven in throughout her long mane. Everything—from the curl of her eyelashes, to the blush on her cheeks, to the ringlets of hair—screamed elegance, sophistication, and femininity. 

“He’s had an affinity for the arts since he was a toddler,” the guard told Clarke. “Queen Adelaide hired the best artists in the land to teach him. He’s still an apprentice under one of the most esteemed artists in our land. Are you an artist, Princess?”

Clarke nodded, stepping away. “Yes. I’ll have to give him my compliments,” she said politely. 

“If you’ll follow me, Princess, I can lead you to the ballroom.” The guard said, gesturing down the hall.

Clarke followed his lead, making her way through the candlelit halls and towards the ballroom. The sounds of music and laughter grew louder and louder as she approached; suddenly, her hands grew sweaty. Clarke's heart raced as she looked around, taking in the overwhelming hustle and bustle of the ballroom. She quietly thanked the guard for leading her as she stepped into the room and scanned the perimeter. Her parents had already made their way to the king and queen’s thrones, so Clarke hastened their way. As she approached the thrones placed at the front of the grand room, Clarke curtseyed. “It’s wonderful to see you, your majesties,” she said with a bowed head. “I apologize for coming in after my parents; I got distracted by your son’s work in the hall.”

“Princess Clarke,” the Queen said. She walked towards the young girl, pulling her into a hug. Clarke’s eyes widened, surprised by the improper display of affection, but hugged the queen back, not wanting to be at risk of appearing rude. “It’s so great to see you again. What a lovely woman you’ve become,” she said dreamily, placing a hand on Clarke’s upper arm. “Oh, she looks just like you, Jacob.”

“You flatter my old age,” her father laughed. “But we all know her good looks come from her beautiful mother,”

“Princess,” the queen said to Clarke, “Aden and his cousins are socializing on the balcony. Come, come; I’ll introduce you to them. The princess will join us shortly, I’m afraid she got stuck in a council meeting and is late to her own party,” Adelaide laughed. 

She nodded goodbye to her parents before following the affectionate queen. “The party looks wonderful, Queen Adelaide,”

“Why, thank you,” the woman smiled. “I want only the best for my daughter; she’s such a hard worker. I wish she would give up this fantasy of leading our army and settle down, but…” the queen shook her head. “She’s happier this way, I suppose.”

“Well, that’s all that really matters,” Clarke said softly, reaching the balcony with the queen. 

“Aden,” the queen called, interrupting his and his cousins’ conversation. “Boys, hello. I’d like you all to formally meet Princess Clarke of the Skaikru.”

The boys all respectfully bowed as each granting her a hello. Aden stepped forward last, extending his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Princess,” he said, giving her a smile.

Clarke accepted his outstretched hand, placing her own palm against his. “Likewise, Prince Aden.” Aden bent forward, giving the back of Clarke’s hand a chaste kiss. 

“Well, Princess, enjoy the evening. I must return inside,” the queen said, bidding Clarke a farewell. 

Clarke turned her attention back to the prince. “Your oil paintings are beautiful,” Clarke said, pulling her hand back only when she knew it was appropriate, letting it fall to her side. 

“Thank you. Do you paint, as well?” Aden asked, gesturing for Clarke to follow him. His cousins began mumbling around them; it took everything in Clarke to not roll her eyes at their childish, suggestive mannerisms. She followed Aden to the edge of the balcony, peering out over the Trikru kingdom. 

“Some,” Clarke said. “I find oils hard to work with, though. I’m much better at charcoal art.”

“A tad messy for my tastes,” Aden laughed. “Do you sculpt? Weave?”

Clarke shook her head. “Some weaving, but mainly I focus on charcoal work. Any attempts at ceramics have been...just short of disastrous,” she laughed, remembering her many failed attempts. “I hear you’re classically trained?”

“Yes, under the Duchess of Polis,” Aden nodded. “Strict, but a fine teacher.”

“Clearly,” Clarke smiled. Silence fell between the two for an awkward moment. 

“Would you like something to drink, Princess? We have fine wines, meads, and water inside,” Aden said, offering her his arm. 

Not wanting to be rude, Clarke accepted his outstretched arm. “Thank you. A glass of water would be lovely,” she said. “I hear your sister is late to her own party?” She asked as they walked inside.

“Yes,” Aden laughed. “She’s intent on finishing all the training to become the next Commander by her twenty-first birthday; our current commander, Indra, is planning to retire soon, and Lexa wishes to take over. Indra doesn’t let her slack off; I didn’t think she’d keep her this late on her birthday, but it is the life she chose, I suppose,” Aden said, releasing Clarke’s arm once they arrived at the drinks table. He handed her a glass to drink, which Clarke took gratefully, glad to have her mouth occupied by something other than polite conversation. “Ah, speak of the devil and she will appear. Lexa!” 

Clarke turned, seeing the birthday girl in question make her way toward the table, and choked on her drink. She had been expecting to see the princess as depicted in Aden’s portrait; soft, feminine, and in an elegant gown. Instead, the princess was in her full armor, crimson Trikru insignia etched into the chest plate of her silver armor. Her sword rested at her side as long curls flowed free, helmet in hand. She was even more stunning, more powerful, more of a presence than depicted in Aden’s picture. 

Aden turned toward Clarke and placed a hand between her shoulder blades, giving a gentle tap. “Are you alright, Princess?”

Clarke cleared her throat. “Yes. Sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” she said, giving him a reassuring smile. He furrowed his eyebrows, but nodded his acceptance of her claim.

“Hello, Aden,” Alexandria greeted her younger brother with a polite nod. 

“Happy birthday, Lexa,” Aden smiled at his older sister. “Why aren’t you dressed for the ball?”

“Mother was growing impatient and sent for me in the middle of my meeting. I didn’t have time to go put on the silly gown she laid out for me.” The princess said. 

“More like you want to give Mother a heart attack and get on her last poor nerve,” Aden snickered.

“Something like that,” Lexa smiled. “Well, are you going to continue to be rude, or are you going to introduce me to your new girlfriend?” Lexa asked with a laugh, assessing the younger woman before her.

“Lexa, stop,” Aden said, and Clarke detected a blush creeping up onto his cheeks. “This is Her Royal Highness, Princess Clarke of Arkadia,” 

Lexa’s smile fell, a blush mimicking her brother's coloring her own face. “Oh, my apologies, Princess,” Lexa said, bowing her head. “I meant no offense.”

“It’s quite alright,” Clarke laughed, curtseying back. “It’s nice to finally meet the woman who gave me this lovely locket,” she said, bringing a hand to the jewelry. 

Lexa’s eyes fell on the silver heart, a smile coming back to her lips. “Oh, yes. I vaguely remember giving you that. From what I can remember, your blessing was lovely,” she nodded. “Do you like it?”

“Very much,” Clarke nodded. “I haven’t yet found anything to put in it, but I wear it every day.”

“Every day?” Lexa asked, curiously, shifting her weight onto one foot. “Why?”

Clarke's shoulders rose and fell in a dismissive shrug. “It’s the only piece of jewelry I own that I actually like,” she said. 

Clarke saw Lexa’s expression change, though she couldn’t determine what it meant. The green eyes before her softened; a gentle smile spread across Lexa's pink lips. Lexa nodded once more before wishing Clarke a good evening. “I’m afraid I must attend to the desires of my mother and greet all of my guests. It was nice to meet you, Princess Clarke. I hope you enjoy staying in our home. Perhaps I’ll get to spend more time with you and Aden later,” Lexa gave a formal bow as she dismissed herself.

“Say,” Aden said, gaining Clarke’s attention once more. “Now that Lexa’s here, no one will notice if _we_ leave. I hate these stuffy parties; would you like to go to the studio and have some fun?” 

Clarke nodded, looking back at the retreating figure of the older princess. “Are you sure no one will know? I would hate to offend Alexandria,” 

Aden laughed. “Please, she’d be happy knowing I spared you from an evening of political discussion and stuffy introductions.”

“Well, then,” Clarke said. “Lead the way.”

* * *

The following morning found Clarke being scolded for leaving the party early. 

“Out of all of the irresponsible, rude, humiliating things—” Abigail began, before her husband calmed her. 

“Darling, she was just spending time with the prince. We want them to be friends, don’t we?” Jacob asked, resting his hands on his wife’s arms. “They were just painting,”

“That’s no excuse for how rude she was to our hosts! People were waiting to meet her,” Abigail said, moving away from her husband’s hold. “You’re lucky the king and queen were not offended, young lady. But you still owe both of them an apology today. To leave a ball early, without thanking your hosts…” Abigail shook her head. “I asked one thing of you, Clarke!”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke said, exasperated. “I already said it a million times. And I _did_ what you asked—the prince and I got along swimmingly,” Clarke said, crossing her arms. “You wished for us to be friends and now we are.”

“Not like that!” Abigail yelled, before taking a deep breath and stepping away, turning away from her daughter and husband. “You can be so impudent, sometimes,” she said, shaking her head. "Jacob, deal with your daughter!"

Clarke and her father exchanged small smiles, both amused by Abigail's dramatics. Jacob cleared his throat, however, and set a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “Go find Alexandria and apologize for leaving her party. You can apologize to Adelaide and Alexander at dinner.” The wink he gave Clarke betrayed his harsh words. 

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Yes, Father,” she said. She swiped her bag off of her bed and left her quarters. She shook her head as she walked down the hall, draping her cross-body bag across her chest. This castle was huge, the Princess was on her own schedule, and she hadn’t seen anyone from the royal family aside from Aden since she left the party. She had no idea where to even begin looking.

She walked the castle halls for what felt like hours, observing the different portraits and sculptures displayed in each hall. The palace felt like a museum with the multitudes of art, the intricacy of the architecture, and the several ceiling-length windows letting in natural light. Clarke was jealous that Alexandria and Aden got to live in such a beautiful castle; as she walked, she imagined what living in this palace would be like. She ventured through an indoor terrarium, the outdoor garden space, the kitchen, the lounging areas, and several private quarters before she finally stumbled across the library. 

Clarke nearly passed out at seeing just how many books were in that grand room. The library in her own home was large but nothing compared to this. The room was flooded with natural light; it was two stories high, books lining all available wall space. A spiral staircase sat in the center of the large room, surrounded by multiple couches and chairs, leading up to the next floor. She looked around in awe as she walked up the swirling staircase, seeing how large the space truly was. The princess walked deeper into the stacks of books, seeing everything the palace library had to offer.

“Princess,” a voice startled Clarke. “What a surprise,”

Clarke turned, seeing the Trikru princess sitting on one of the several plush couches in the large room, legs crossed and a book on her lap. Clarke curtseyed quickly. “Princess Alexandria,” she said, bowing her head. 

Lexa laughed. “Please, Princess, just call me Lexa. And there’s no need for...that,” she said, waving her hand dismissively towards Clarke’s formalities. “Would you like to join me?” She asked, gesturing to the open seat next to her. 

Clarke hesitated, before nodding. “Of course,” she said. She walked towards the plush couch, taking her seat next to Lexa. “What are you reading?” She asked. 

“Some new fable; it’s popular in the city,” Lexa said, closing the book. “It’s about a king named Arthur and his court of knights. Their religion is quite strange; they only have one god, but he has a son who is also god, and somehow, they’re the same person,” Lexa laughed. “It makes no sense.” 

Clarke laughed with her. “That does sound quite silly. What is their religion called?”

“I’m not sure, but Arthur calls his kingdom both Camelot and Christendom.” Lexa said. 

“And the author is?”

“A man named Sir Thomas Malory. A knight, I believe, in the Delfikru. Fitting, as Delfi is the god of sacred texts, and this novel is being worshipped,” Lexa laughed once more.

“Are...there any ladies in the book?” Clarke asked, assessing Lexa's reaction. She glanced at the cover, seeing who she presumed to be King Arthur pulling a sword out of a large stone. “Or is it all about the men?”

Lexa smiled. “No, there are women. Morgan Le Fay is Arthur’s half-sister; she’s a sorceress. There’s a character with mystical ability called the Lady of the Lake; she gave Arthur his sword, Excalibur. Arthur has a wife, too, Guinevere. She’s...having an affair with his best knight, Launcelot.” Lexa said. “Hardly moral for a book supposedly about the morality of knighthood. Though, I suppose a _man_ can never write a woman in a way which is flattering or just.” 

“The queen is having an affair?” Clarke gasped, looking at Lexa. “Wouldn’t that be treason? Does Arthur know?”

Lexa nodded. “I assume. He’s a smart man, I doubt he would be daft enough to not see what’s happening before his own eyes. His most trusted knight, the love of his life...I’m sure he knows.”

“Well, why wouldn’t he stop them?” Clarke asked, watching as Lexa’s eyes fell down to the book. “Why wouldn’t he want his queen to be...well, his? And his knight to respect him?”

“They’re happy,” Lexa shrugged. “Maybe Arthur thinks their happiness is more important than his own. Maybe his love for his best friend and his wife is so great that he’d willingly suffer, himself, to keep them happy. Perhaps, because he knows others finding out would create a civil war, and do more harm than good.”

“Does it?” 

Lexa nodded. “Yes, I’m nearing the end. A war has indeed begun because of the affair between Launcelot and Guinevere. The court is choosing sides now, for Launcelot and for Arthur.” Lexa looked back up at Clarke. “It’s tragic. But a cautionary tale, I suppose.”

“It sounds quite sad,” Clarke remarked, eyes locking on Lexa’s. “Are you happy for Launcelot and Guinevere, or sad for Arthur?”

“I don’t know,” she said, smiling softly at the younger girl. “I suppose adultery is wrong; but they are truly in love. It’s certainly supposed to make one feel conflicted about morality. I do pity Arthur, though; he’s losing everything because of those he loves.”

“Well,” Clarke said, resting a hand on Lexa’s atop the book. “That’s fantasy, Lexa. I’m sure that your kingdom will never have such a worry.”

Lexa smiled. “I certainly hope not, Princess.” 

Clarke pulled her hand away, clasping her hands together and settling the on her lap. A comfortable silence fell between the two, before Clarke spoke once more. “I’m afraid I may have offended you and your parents last night. Prince Aden wished to show me the art room, and we got caught up in painting. I meant no offense by leaving your party early without saying goodbye,”

“I wasn’t offended, Princess,” Lexa said reassuringly. “I was quite glad that Aden got you away from all the boring small talk, actually,” she said. “I remember being your age and dreading such affairs. I wouldn’t want a guest of mine to be bored to tears,”

Clarke nodded, “Prince Aden said as much. Still, I enjoyed getting to meet you and your family. Thank you for inviting us,” 

“Any time, Princess,” Lexa said, setting her book on the side table by the couch. “Did you have a good evening with Aden?” She asked, giving Clarke a smirk. “I think someone may have a crush on you. Aden wouldn’t stop babbling about your art—or your beauty—after your departure last night.”

Clarke felt her face heat up. “I had fun, yes,” she said, uncomfortably. “It was...pleasant getting to spend time with the prince,”

“Oh,” Lexa laughed. “The crush is not returned, I see,” 

“I’ve only just met him,” Clarke said, shoulders rising and dropping. “Besides, I don’t think much of those things. My father will choose who I marry, anyway; I find = no need for deluding myself into crushes or fancies.”

Lexa frowned. “But you’re a young lady, Clarke. You’re supposed to find joy in those things. Youth is all about wild fantasies and lusting over your peers,”

“I’ve learned my lesson about that,” Clarke said quietly, eyes dropping to her hands settled in her lap. “It does me no good to waste my time falling in love when I know I have a duty which comes first.” She looked back up at Lexa. “You’re quite lucky that you don’t have the burden of leading your kingdom. I know you’re supposed to have the same duties as me, one day, but you’re so free right now.”

Lexa shook her head at the younger girl. “Not really,” she said. “If I leave the army, I’ll be expected to settle down and marry; to bear children. So,” she said, “I don’t intend on leaving. My life is chosen for me one way or another—giving my service to the kingdom either through the military or motherhood. And I think I’d rather choose the former,” Lexa laughed softly. “I have no desire for a husband and family of my own.”

Sensing the conversation was heading into a place perhaps too deep for their first true friendly encounter, Clarke changed the subject. “I do have a birthday gift for you, Princess,” she said, reaching into her small bag. She carefully pulled the wooden box out, the same which she carried in her pocket all the night before. “I can see now that you aren’t much of a jewelry girl, but I hope you like it, nonetheless,”

Lexa took the box, thanking the younger princess. She opened it, smiling at what she saw. “A locket?” She asked.

Clarke nodded with a smile. “I do admire the one you gifted me so much; I figured I would only return the favor. I was given this locket by some relative at my blessing, but I always preferred this one,” Clarke said, touching her own necklace. “It’s a similar style, however, so I thought I would pass it along to you. They can be a mark of our friendship,”

Lexa picked the locket up, assessing it. It did look very similar to the one Clarke was wearing, only it was made of gold, rather than silver. It was the same heart shape, with the same small clasp, though the patterns on the metal varied slightly. “It’s very lovely, Princess,” she smiled. “And I’d be happy to be your friend.”

“Say, as your friend,” Clarke said. “Can I borrow that book when you’re finished? I’m quite intrigued by such a mystical religion. One god?” Clarke laughed. “That sounds so unrealistic. And the whole forbidden love thing..." Clarke trailed off. "It's sad, but romantic."

“Of course, Princess,” Lexa said, admiring how excited Clarke was. “You can keep this one,” she said, reaching over to the side table and grabbing the book. “I can get another from the market,”

“But you aren’t finished yet,” Clarke said hesitantly, not taking the book.

“Go on,” Lexa said, placing the book in her lap. “I don’t mind. I don’t know when I’ll be able to make it to the market next and get another copy, so you can have mine. I hope you don’t mind my margin scribbles—I like to talk with the books I read; to write and reflect,” she said. 

“Well, thank you, Alexandria," Clarke said. “I really appreciate the gift.”

Lexa stood, glancing out of a nearby window. “Well, Princess, I’m afraid it’s getting to be time for another meeting. Please, feel free to roam the library, take any books you want back to your quarters.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said, standing as well. She watched as Lexa carefully placed the locket and its box in her loose pant pocket. “Is this another military meeting?”

“No, actually,” Lexa said. “I’m meeting with my parents and yours, to discuss a...matter of importance,” Lexa hesitated for a moment, before speaking. “I’m sorry, in advance.”

“For what?” Clarke asked, feeling her heart race.

“The matter of our discussion today is about the future of our kingdoms,” Lexa said. “A potential joining of them, in fact. You’re not supposed to know this, but I feel it would be unfair for you to be blindsided.”

Realization settled within Clarke. “Then they are discussing my dowry today." It was not a question, and Lexa did not perceive it as such. 

“As you said,” Lexa nodded. “You knew it would happen at some point. I can speak up for you, if you’d like me to—”

“No,” Clarke shook her head. “Also, as I said, I understand my duty is to my people. What will be will be. I just...didn’t anticipate it happening so soon.” 

“I’m sorry, Princess,” Lexa sighed. “I can try to postpone the engagement as long as possible, if you’d like.”

“Why are you in this meeting, Lexa?” Clarke asked. “You shouldn’t hold a say, should you?”

“I’m the political adviser for Trikru, being the firstborn woman. It’s our way,” Lexa said. “Now that I’m eighteen, I must...go to these meetings and do my duty. But I can fight for you, if you wish,”

Those words rang heavy in Clarke’s ears. For her? She wanted to say yes, to say "please stop this from happening." But she’d known since she was a child what her life would entail as the daughter and only child of a king. “It’s alright, Alexandria,” she nodded. “I...am glad that if I must be sold off, at least I’ll be sold off to someone as kind as Aden,” she said, chuckling a little. “Politics, right?”

“You’re too young for these worries,” Lexa said sadly, observing the young girl. 

“So are you,” Clarke shrugged. “Go on, I won’t tell. Don’t be late to your first advisory meeting, Princess. And,” she said, pausing. “Thank you for the book.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think; I'd love to hear your feedback!
> 
> You can find me over at legendofbisexuals on tumblr.
> 
> fic lowkey inspo cc/favvnsongs & cc/jeongmisahyo on tumblr bc we schemed a royalty au years ago. this ain't it but theres def some inspo from that <3


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years later - Clarke & Aden's engagement announcement, as well as the Winterfest activities in Arkadia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This chapter is more background and relationship/character building, rather than very plot driven. We'll mostly see the Clarke/Aden development, but there's some Clarke/Lexa scenes as well. As I said, very focused on just beginning the foundations of these pivotal relationships.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

_II._

Clarke stared at her reflection, dread swirling in her belly. The princess turned from side to side in front of her large mirror, inspecting her long gown. Ensuring there were no wrinkles, stray threads, or stains, the princess let out a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” she muttered to herself, her mantra the only thing keeping her centered in the present. 

Clarke had been anticipating this moment for over two long years. At each of her complaints and worries over her impending engagement and all of the details such a union entailed, Abigail had simply brushed her daughter off, saying she was too young to understand all of the politics that go into an arranged marriage. 

_“But clearly old enough to be pawned off in one.”_

Such a response did not end well for the princess.

Winterfest was usually a time of year which Clarke looked forward to; large feasts, festivals in the town square, the multi-day tournament held in the palace fields, and the grand celebration her parents threw at the end of the week were all reasons Clarke enjoyed the annual holiday. It was a time of year where Clarke could find life and joy within the palace walls, and outside of them, too. This Winterfest, however, was different. It was not just a celebration of the coming new year, but a celebration of a new alliance. An alliance forged with Clarke as the bargaining chip. 

Without realizing she had done it, Clarke settled her fingers upon her locket, rubbing her thumb over its metallic patterns. It had been a source of comfort for her thus far in her life; she was afraid that by the end of the night, the poor locket would be barren of any design from her nervous ministrations against it. As she looked in the mirror, she remembered back to when her father told her the news after coming home from their trip to Polaris. 

_“You hardly need to tell me, Father,” Clarke said, watching her father pace nervously across the reading room. She set the novel loaned to her by the Trikru princess aside, letting out a deep sigh. “I’m engaged to Prince Aden, aren’t I?”_

_King Jacob halted in his pacing. “You know this how?”_

_Clarke shrugged, unwilling to label the princess as her accomplice. “It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together,” she said, a sad laugh escaping through her lips._

_“I never wanted to do this to you, Clarke,” her father said, walking closer to the plush couch. “May I sit with you?” He asked, and Clarke could tell he was nervous._

_“Of course, Father,” she said, softly._

_“I wanted to change the way this country worked,” Jacob sighed, taking a seat next to his daughter. “I resisted every push from your grandparents into a political marriage. Your uncle and I convinced them to let me marry for love. Your mother, she was not a peasant —far from it. But she was not one of the ladies I was supposed to consider, despite her father being a respected knight of my father’s court. But it still took years of convincing them...I worked so hard to create a life worth living for myself, and then for you,” Jacob rested a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “And now I must sell my daughter off like cattle. I’m ashamed,” _

_“Father,” Clarke said, pulling him in for a hug. “I always knew this would end up happening. I’m not mad at you —I can’t say that I’m thrilled with the prospect, but I could never be mad at you. Prince Aden is probably the best I could hope for out of a political marriage, anyway,” _

_Jacob held his daughter tightly. “My darling, I wish we could have had more children to help disperse the duties of this life. Your mother and I tried everything we could to give you a sibling, to have some way of distributing responsibilities, but the gods would not bless us again. We tried herbs, medicines, rituals; everything we could. I’m so sorry the burden is left alone for you,”_

_When her father released her from the hug, Clarke moved back on the couch so as to look at her father better. “When can I expect it to happen?”_

_“The wedding?” Jacob asked. At his daughter’s nod, he answered, “Not for a while, my darling. We agreed the wedding would proceed on Aden's twenty-first birthday, though the benefits of the alliance begin sooner.”_

_Clarke hummed, accepting the answer. At least she still had a few years left… “And everything is resolved, then?”_

_“Quite far from it, I’m afraid,” Jacob said with a grimace. “While King Alexander and I have verbally committed to this union, our respective councils and advisors will have much to discuss about the economic implications of the union, and the legal matters,” he explained._

_“What will become of Skaikru after the marriage?” She asked quietly. “Are we merging to become one nation?”_

_“Trikru and Skaikru will remain separate governing bodies,” her father said. “Joining into one nation would do more harm than good —too many people would react poorly. Other nations might fear we or Trikru are trying to expand power and wage war. Your marriage with Aden will work to solidify the alliance between our clans, and, in exchange for information on our medicines and medical procedures, Trikru will loan our country the money it needs to get back on our feet. When our exports have leveled with our imports once more, we will increase our percentage of exports to favor Trikru, and we will repay the loan over time, at least, that is the plan so far. But your marriage, no matter what the details end up being, will act as a vow for both countries to support one another, in the case of events like this in the future. Our countries will always remain separate, but allied under your union.” _

_“Who will take the throne when...you are gone?” Clarke asked. Her blue eyes began to fill with tears. “Uncle Marcus has no children, and when I am wed off, my children will not have any claim to Arkadia.”_

_Her father nodded slowly. “The council will make a vote for which family will take over when our reign ends with my death. Either the Sydney, Pike, or Jaha family will be the next rulers of Skaikru, unless Marcus and his wife produce an heir in the coming years; though that is unlikely, with how sickly poor Eleanor is.” After a moment, he continued. “As the firstborn daughter, you will become one of the Skaikru advisors upon your eighteenth birthday, as is the custom of our people. I’m working now with the council to ensure that you will maintain your voice for Skaikru even after your marriage so you may have some say in the affairs of your kingdom. If my wish is granted, I will trust you to be on the council which will decide who leads after my death.”_

A knock at her door pulled Clarke from her memories. “Come in,” she called, quite sure it was her mother. 

She was not expecting to see the familiar face of the Trikru princess poke through the door. “Princess,” Clarke greeted her with a curtsey. “Is something wrong?”

Lexa laughed, closing the door behind her gently. “You can call me Lexa, remember?” She said with a smile. She bowed her head in respect, before saying, “Princess is not a fitting title for me, I’m afraid. May I come in?”

Clarke nodded, gesturing to the seating area on the other side of her room. She followed the princess to where the wicker chairs sat under Clarke’s large window. “What are you doing here, if I may ask?” Clarke questioned the princess as she sat, resting her folded hands atop her lap. 

“Quite honestly,” Lexa laughed, “I was bored of listening to our parents prattle on about the evening’s affairs. I also figured you could use a friend,” she said, offering the younger girl a smile. “I recall from our last meeting how...unexcited you were, by the marriage prospect. I figured that sentiment might still be the same, and you might need someone to talk to before the announcement.”

Clarke fought to keep the graceful smile upon her lips. “Lexa,” she said, hesitating. “I...mean no offense, your brother is a great suitor for me.”

“Princess, I am hardly offended by the fact that a seventeen-year-old girl does not want to act as the dowry for an economic alliance,” Lexa said with a chuckle. “Regardless of whether he is my brother or not, I can understand your uncertainty and fear.”

Clarke assessed the girl sitting across from her. “You can?” 

“Yes,” Lexa said. “When I was slightly younger than you, I was arranged to be engaged to a man,” Clarke didn’t miss the way Lexa’s nose scrunched slightly at that. “Trikru custom declares that noble women in the Imperial Army cannot be subjected to unwilling marriage or childbearing as they dedicate their lives to the service of the military. As soon as I found that old rule, I petitioned our council and began my training soon after.” Lexa paused for a moment. “I believe I’ve spoken of this to you before, but if I leave the army, I will have to settle into a marriage. I—I have no desire for a husband, Princess,” Lexa said, watching Clarke carefully watch her. “So I can understand your feelings now,”

Clarke stared for a long moment, before letting out an offended breath. “Are you attempting to make me feel better?”

“Yes?” Lexa said, more of a question than a statement. 

“Lexa,” Clarke said with a shake of her head, “you have no idea how incredibly lucky you are. I do not have that luxury.”

“I was not trying to offer a solution,” Lexa said, “I was merely offering myself as someone you may speak freely with about how you feel.”

“Well,” Clarke said, dropping her defenses, realizing the older girl was only trying to help, “thank you for that.”

“I mean it, Princess,” Lexa said, her forehead creasing in sincerity. “I figure...you cannot speak freely of your feelings to anyone else; you feel guilty, do you not? The last time we spoke, you mentioned duty and politics; not the desire of your own happiness. Your parents, Aden—you wouldn’t burden them with your own feelings, but you can always find counsel in me, as your friend.” 

Clarke’s door swung open, drawing the girls’ attention. “Clarke, you must get ready or you will be—” the queen halted, eyes wide upon seeing Clarke’s guest. “Princess Alexandria,” Abigail said curtly. “A pleasure. Would you excuse us? I must help Clarke finish preparing for the evening.”

“Mother—” 

“Of course,” Lexa nodded politely, interrupting the princess. She stood, offering Clarke a farewell, before swiftly exiting the room.

Abigail shut the door behind Lexa, with perhaps too much force. “You do not need to be so rude,” Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Why was the princess in your private quarters?” Abigail scolded Clarke. “Do you have any idea what that may look like?”

“To whom? That was the first time I have ever had someone other than _you_ in my room,” Clarke scoffed. “Why are you so upset about her paying me a friendly visit?” Abigail simply stared at her daughter, raising an eyebrow. “Mother,”

“This engagement announcement is important,” Abigail said. “I cannot have some...gossiping guard make the nation think my daughter is shacking up with the neighboring clan’s princess.”

“Absolutely nobody would think that, Mother,” Clarke shook her head. “You are the only one.”

“Enough attitude,” the queen sighed. “Just—get ready.”

“I am ready,” Clarke said, standing. She gestured to herself. 

The queen glanced at Clarke, shaking her head. “You are not in the proper dress,”

“I like this dress, Mother,” Clarke said. “I’m a grown woman, am I not? After all, I am old enough to be engaged,” Clarke reveled in the annoyed glare her mother sent her way. “If I’m old enough to be married, I’m old enough to pick my own dress for the evening.”

“I—I give up on you, sometimes,” Abigail said. Throwing her hands up, she ushered Clarke toward the door. “We don’t want to be late for the first night of the festival.”

By the time the royal families arrived at the plaza, the festivities were in full swing. Merchant stands lined the perimeter of the plaza with everything from crafts to food to textiles and livestock being sold. Dancers entertained the people of the city on a large wooden stage, constructed for the Winterfest activities in the plaza, while musicians played the folk songs of their people. What must have been hundreds of people were already gathered in the square before sunset, all awaiting the king to officially kick off their week-long festival.

Only after the king communicated with a guard and ensured the Trikru family was protected from the crowd did the Skaikru family make their public appearance. The king thanked the dancing ladies for their entertainment, as more guards ushered them off the stage.

King Jacob stood proudly in the center of the stage, waiting for the crowd to quiet. The queen stood to his left, and the princess, to his right. “Citizens of Arkadia,” his voice boomed across the crowd. “We welcome you to this year’s Winterfest!” Cheers erupted through the crowd. When the noise died down, the king spoke once more. “Tonight is a night of music, dancing, and performance; tomorrow begins our tournaments, where the best knights and warriors in the land will showcase their skills in varying sports and talents. As much joy as it brings me to announce these festivities, it brings me even greater joy to announce that we are hosting the royal Trikru family this Winterfest as our honored guests.” Some mutters and cheers dispersed through the people, unsure of what was happening. “As you know,” the king spoke once more, “my daughter, Princess Clarke, is of marrying age. We have chosen her suitor—” he paused (for what Clarke felt was too dramatic of a moment). “It is with great honor that I announce the engagement of Princess Clarke of Skaikru and Prince Aden of Trikru! Trikru and Skaikru, from this moment forward, are allies: in economic ventures, in trade, in war!”

* * *

“Are you not participating in the festivities, Princess?”

Clarke turned, seeing the face of the prince (officially, her fiancé, she realized in that moment, feeling her whole body go even colder in the winter air at the realization) for the first time that evening—for the first time in two years. He was taller; his hair longer, but steal neatly cut. At seventeen, he had a much squarer jaw and wider shoulders than he had at fifteen, though his boyish smile remained the same. “Prince Aden,” she said, giving him a curtsey. “It’s a pleasure to see you. I’m glad you could make it to our Winterfest,”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Aden said. He offered a hand to Clarke, which she took knowing fully well that the prince would kiss the back of her hand. “You look beautiful,” he remarked after letting her hand slip from his. 

“Thank you,” she nodded once. “Please, feel free to partake in any activities; the first night of Winterfest is always such fun,”

“Would you join me?” He asked. At Clarke’s hesitation, the prince gave her a reassuring smile. “We will have to start spending time together eventually, Princess,”

At that, Clarke let out a small laugh. “I suppose so.” Aden offered his left arm to her, which she took with her right. Resting her left hand against his upper arm, Clarke asked, “What would you like to do?”

“You know your kingdom better than I,” Aden said. “What’s your favorite part of the Winterfest?”

Clarke hummed in thought, before saying, “Honestly, I like to walk and see all the merchant stands. I’m not permitted to go to the markets without a guard, but since the market comes here for this night, I’m allowed to go look at all the goods,”

“Well, lead the way, Princess,” he said, gesturing outwards. “Any stand you’d like to start with?”

A merchant selling brightly colored fabrics caught her eye across the plaza. She began walking in that direction, guiding Aden with her. Clarke observed the different patches of silk, velvet, and more, admiring their beauty. Together, she and Aden walked from stand to stand, making small talk about the decently cool weather (not too cold for Winterfest’s outdoor nature, not too warm to be uncomfortable under their light fur coats), about the past two years (and the different art classes they’d taken or works they’d created), about the journey from Polaris to Arkadia (and how, no, it wasn’t too unbearable, though Aden’s father fell asleep on the wagon and his snores _were_ unbearable). 

The pair came across a little jewelry stand, a kind old woman selling both handmade and antique designs. Clarke admired several of the pieces—each individual, each with tiny, visible flaws, unlike the multitudes of stuffy pieces she owned but refused to wear—eyes fixating on a particular silver ring. It was dainty, with a thin band seemingly wrapping around itself in a vine-like appearance. At the top sat a deep blue sapphire, elliptical in shape.

Clarke hummed, admiring the unique design as she gently reached for it. It was rather beautiful; it was so different from anything she had seen before. It was vibrant, eclectic, and most importantly, different from the heaps of gold and diamonds locked away in her beauty room never seeing the light of day.

Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t heard Aden ask how much the ring cost, or even see him pull some coins from his pocket to pay for it. Clarke was brought back into the present when the prince was graciously thanking the old woman. “Oh, you really didn’t have to,” Clarke began, but Aden was ushering her away from the stand, pulling her off to the side. 

“Most men present a ring for their chosen at the time of engagement,” Aden laughed. “Being a nation and two years’ worth of council meetings away, that was rather hard to do. Please, Princess.” He held his hand palm out, waiting for Clarke to give him the ring. He gave what was most likely supposed to be a smile, but appeared as more of a nervous grimace. “Humor me?”

She had to admit—his nervous, boyish nature was rather charming, even if she was flooded with anxiety at the enormity of this moment. The words had been exchanged, the deal had been confirmed, and the public now knew; but he was asking her, himself? That wasn’t a part of a typical arranged marriage; Clarke hadn’t been expecting any gesture of the sort from the boy. “Humor you in asking me to marry you?” Clarke clarified, eyebrows raising, watching as Aden shuffled on his feet.

“Well,” the boy laughed awkwardly, “I can at least attempt to make the engagement a happy one for you, even if the reality of the matter is beyond our control.” After a pause, he said, “You deserve that, Clarke. I hope you know. You deserve someone who will try for you, and I promise,” Clarke felt her heart drop. “I will try. I’m sorry we’re in this position, but I will try to make the best life for you I can.”

“You spoke with your sister,” Clarke let out a shaky laugh. “Did you not?”

Aden’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I spoke to her about being...unsure about everything. Did she tell you this? Is that why you’re trying to...make me happy?”

Aden shook his head, laughing at Clarke’s words. “No, Princess. I’m trying to make you happy because,” he shrugged, “it’s just you and me now, you know? We might as well live a happy life together,”

Him and her. Aden and Clarke. 

It didn’t sound right. But it was the reality.

This was her life, from this moment on, and she couldn’t change a thing. 

“It is,” Clarke said, trying to maintain her smile. Taking a deep breath, she handed the small silver ring over to Aden. “Well?” She asked, playing along.

“Princess Clarke,” Aden said, holding the small ring between his thumb and index finger, “will you marry me?”

* * *

“I hope you know, our mothers have yet to stop gushing about the proposal.”

Clarke looked up, pulling her eyes from her novel. “Alexandria, hello. I figured as much,” she said.

“Do you like it, Princess?” Lexa asked, taking a seat on the chair diagonal from the reading room couch. “It’s quite beautiful.”

Clarke looked down at her hand. “I suppose so,” she said dismissively. “Can I confide in you now, as a friend? Like you promised?”

“Of course,” Lexa said softly. 

“I’m scared.” Clarke swallowed. “I knew it would happen, and even though it has been two years of deliberating with my knowing…”

“It still feels too sudden?” Lexa finished for her.

Clarke nodded. “Yes. It does.” She exhaled roughly, shaking her head. “Aden was only trying to be courteous and polite; to make me happy. But it just made...this all too real.”

“He is nothing if not persistent, Princess,” Lexa said. “He has quite the fancy for you, still. He only wants you to be happy. Try to remember that, if nothing else.”

Clarke shut the book in her lap, setting it on the side table next to her. Wishing to change the subject, she spoke. “I finished the novel you gave me from our last visit,” she said. “A while ago. And I’ve reread it twice now. While I liked the story, I appreciated your notes more—you have a writer's soul, do you not?”

Lexa smiled, leaning forward in her chair a little more. Clarke caught a shimmer of gold poke out beneath the collar of Lexa’s white, long sleeved shirt. Could it be…?

“Reading is much more enjoyable when you engage with the author,” Lexa said. “Question the text; do not just read it. Ask the author, why is your character this way? Challenge them as you read,” she gave a swift, sure nod. “That’s the best way to learn from a text; to make meaning of it.”

“I’ve never heard anyone talk about literature as you do,” Clarke reflected with a thoughtful gaze at the princess. “Did you ever come to a conclusion about my question?”

Lexa’s eyebrows furrowed. “What question?”

“Do you feel happy for Launcelot and Guinevere? Or sad for King Arthur?”

Lexa smiled, remembering their conversation now. “After having read the whole thing, I feel pity for them all. What do you think, Princess?”

“I tried to dislike Guinevere for doing such a thing to her loyal, loving husband,” Clarke shook her head. “But I could not. I only saw a desperate woman, trying to have that which she dreams of, but does not feel with her husband,” she paused. “True love.”

“Is it true, though?” Lexa asked, settling her elbows on her knees. She clasped her hands together, entwining her fingers, and Clarke didn’t miss the way her forearm muscles flexed beneath the nearly translucent sleeves of her dress shirt. “In the end, she tells Launcelot she never wishes to see him again.”

“I think Guinevere is...fickle,” Clarke settled on the word. “Her love for Arthur was true until she met Launcelot; her love for _him_ was true until Arthur died and she realized the consequences of her actions. But even then, I do not feel that she stopped loving Launcelot, but rather, chose not to see him again in penance for her sins. I believe Guinevere to be a poor soul, damned by the gods to always want that which she cannot have,” Clarke sighed, eyes dropping from Lexa. “And, truth be told, I could not dislike her, because I saw too much of myself in her.” She scoffed at herself, adding, “Or perhaps I dislike her _too_ much for that reason.” She looked back up at Lexa, blue eyes locking on green. “I cannot make up my mind. I’m just as fickle as she is,” 

Lexa frowned as she watched the young girl go through this range of emotions. “And Launcelot?”

“Oh, I dislike him tremendously,” Clarke said. “And yet, I pity him. A shameful thing, to take your king’s—your _best friend’s —_wife as your own; but an even more shameful thing to not fight to have the one you love as yours. I detest his prideful nature, but I admire his loyalty to Guinevere. Though he made mistakes, he did everything out of pure, utter love and devotion…” she trailed off. “It makes him almost forgivable, for me.”

“Almost?” Lexa focused on the word. 

Clarke hummed thoughtfully. “Again, I do not know what I feel. This author has a way with words,”

“Life is rarely black and white, Princess,” Lexa said, leaning back in her seat once more. “I think the novel shows just that. Humans are not all honorable, or all wicked. We all fall somewhere in between,”

Clarke nodded, eyes not falling from Lexa’s. “You should write.”

Lexa guffawed at the suggestion. “No; I wouldn’t write well enough. I’m a soldier, Princess, not a poet.”

“Your notes convinced me otherwise,” Clarke said. “I mean it; I would buy your novels.”

“Well, perhaps I will write,” Lexa said, “but just to _you_ , then. I hardly have the time to spare on creating love stories for young girls such as yourself to swoon over,”

“Alexandria,” Clarke admonished, “you read it, too. Don’t pretend you were unaffected by it,” she teased.

Lexa held her hands up in surrender. “Alright, fair enough, Princess.”

“I would enjoy your correspondence, though,” Clarke said after a pause in conversation. “I...very much appreciate your friendship. When you return home, will you promise to write?”

“I can promise that much,” Lexa said. “But I will only promise such a thing on one condition,” Lexa said.

“And that is?” Clarke asked, curiously. 

A light pink dusted across Lexa’s cheeks. “Will you cheer for me in the tournament?” Lexa asked, more shy than Clarke expected. “I fear being jeered out of your homeland; I’ll be the only foreigner participating.”

“I can do that,” Clarke smiled.

* * *

The royal families sat in a special, closed off section of the Skaikru arena. There were thrones for the king and the queen, as well as seats for Clarke and the family’s guests. An awning was placed above the seating, blocking out harsh sunlight and, in the warmer months, preventing overheating. Clarke sat to the right of her father’s throne, with Aden by her side. 

The first day of the tournament consisted of hammer throwing. Though Lexa had no experience in this sport whatsoever (it had no practical training use for the military, and a royal would not be caught _dead_ having an instructor teach their child a sport more dangerous than horseshoes), the royal families still cheered her on as she participated.

She managed to rank in tenth out of thirty competitors.

...

The following day was the archery tournament. This was not one of Lexa’s best sports, Aden warned Clarke and their family members as they sat down, but she was still good. She did not practice much with an arrow, Aden explained, because as Commander, she would engage mostly in the battlefield or behind the scenes, but never hiding away in the foliage as archers do. 

The archery tournament was always Clarke’s least favorite. She nearly fell asleep at one point in the day, and would have, if Aden did not shake her awake with a teasing smile. 

While Lexa did not win the archery tournament, she did not come anywhere near the last place. Clarke and the royal family members all congratulated the princess for her third place ranking after her match, and Clarke slept well that night, after a boring day.

...

The last day of the tournament featured traditional sword fighting -- one of Lexa’s strongest styles of fighting, Aden had told her. The royal families watched for hours as esteemed knights and warriors battled it out, no match ending until one party yielded. Being a tournament for entertainment, no kill strikes were allowed—so the matches raged on and on. Finally, after a good portion of the day had passed, Aden nudged Clarke.

“That armor?” He said, pointing. “That’s Lexa.”

Clarke sat up a little straighter in her seat. She pulled her warm fur blanket tighter around her shoulders, watching the scene before her unfold. 

After watching brutish man after brutish man sword fight with harsh jabs and angry swipes, Clarke did not expect to watch what looked like a dance. The princess warrior was light on her feet, elegantly side stepping blows, ducking under swings, and circling her opponent. Her sword movements seemed to slice the air around her with precision; the clanging of metal on metal sounding more like windchimes than a brutal battle. 

There was a moment where the world stopped—the princess was knocked off her feet through a harsh kick, onto her back in the dirt. Clarke reached for the closest thing for support, gripping as tight as she could. She watched in fear, time passing impossibly slow. One minute, Lexa was staring down her opponent’s sword at point blank; the next, the positions were turned and Lexa stood, victorious, boot slammed on her opponent’s chest plate as her sword rested under his chin. Clarke hadn’t even _seen_ how the girl had turned her luck, so caught in the moment and worried for Lexa’s safety.

As the crowd cheered for the foreign princess, Clarke let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. She looked gleefully at Aden, but feeling a squeeze on her hand looked down—and realized that she had gripped onto Aden’s hand during the match. “My apologies,” she blushed, pulling her hand away. “I must have hurt you,”

“It was no problem,” he reassured her. “I was glad to be a comfort for you,”

None of them were surprised when Lexa walked away from the tournament as the winner.

* * *

With Winterfest coming to a close, there was but one event left; the annual ball hosted by the royal family.

It would be the first formal event the newly engaged prince and princess would attend together, so Abigail made sure that Clarke was dressed in the finest of velvet dresses, with the handmaidens spending hours upon hours layering makeup on her face and bundling her hair into a long, thick braid. Once her customary circlet tiara was settled back into place on her head, Abigail deemed her daughter was ready to go. 

Clarke let her mother have this night without any sarcastic remarks; she knew the diplomats, councilmen, the land’s dukes and duchesses, and all the ranks of the nobility would be in attendance at the ball to meet her fiancé. Her mother was already on the brink of a nervous breakdown, and as much as Clarke would have loved to frazzle her mother more, she thought it best to play the dutiful daughter role for one night.

Besides; Clarke was frazzled enough on her own.

The evening went about as expected—the newly engaged couple spent their evening thanking many older noble couples for their well wishes, with Clarke consistently avoiding any discussion women started about having babies, and listening to many, many boring aristocratic men warn Aden about the dullness of marriage and the nagging tendencies of wives.

“I’m _so_ much more enthralled with the prospect of marriage now,” Clarke said sarcastically as a rather drunk diplomat stumbled away. “Somehow, the thought of eight children does not make him want to kill himself, but nine?” She nodded, glancing at her betrothed. “Too many; he’s right. That is where the line must be drawn. Thank _goodness_ we know when to stop reproducing,” she rolled her eyes.

Aden laughed at her sarcastic attitude, having enjoyed her snide remarks all throughout the night. “You are quite the one woman show, Princess,” 

“Well, I am glad you like my sense of humor, seeing as you’re stuck with it for the rest of your life,” Clarke said, observing the partygoers. “I think we may finally be in the clear—should we make a run for it?”

Aden nodded, “Please.”

Clarke guided Aden through the sea of dancing, trying her best to keep them disguised in the constant movement. They managed to make it to the other side of the ballroom, slipping away out one of the side doors. Clarke glanced around nervously, checking to make sure she did not have an angry mother storming after her—but upon seeing that they were alone, she sighed, gratefully. 

“Only hundreds more of these to go in our lifetimes,” Clarke said, turning away from the ballroom. “Well? Where would you like to go?” Before Aden could answer, a rumbling sound echoed between them. Clarke glanced between the boy’s reddening face and his stomach and couldn’t contain her laughter. “To the kitchen it is,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me at legendofbisexuals on tumblr. 
> 
> -Annie <3


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A clexa-centric chapter! Clarke and Lexa exchange letters. Clarke returns to Polaris to celebrate Aden's upcoming birthday and finds herself spending three days alone with Lexa. The girls explore the markets together and come across some realizations that neither of them are too happy about.

_III._

_20th December,_

_Princess Clarke,_

_I have returned home safely from our visit to your beautiful country. I quite enjoyed getting to spend a week among your people and experience your culture, especially Winterfest. I hope I provided some entertainment between your napping sessions as the tournament took place (and do not lie, I saw you dozing from my place in waiting for the archery competition!)._

_I look forward to corresponding with you. Keep me updated on any and all literature which you read and wish to discuss; I will find the time to read and write back among my busy schedule. After all, I always keep my promises —especially to someone as special to me as you, my friend. _

_Respond soon. I wish you all the best._

_Kindest regards,_

_Lexa_

_..._

_1st January_

_Princess Alexandria,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I must congratulate you on beginning your last year of training! It seems incredible to me that by the year’s end you will be the Commander of the Imperial Trikru Army. You must tell me —are you nervous? I have seen you fight; fear not, you have no reason for any doubt. I know you will make a wonderful Commander. I am blessed by the gods to know that someone like you will be on the front lines of my protection in your country. _

_I read a new fantasy work today, from another writer of the Delfikru. It’s an anonymous work, however, about one of Arthur's knights, Gawain. Have you read it? I do not wish to spoil it for you. It is called Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. You may be too busy to be reading such fantasy works, as of late, but it is much shorter than Sir Malory’s epic. If you read it soon, I would love to discuss it with you. I believe you would find the Lady of the Castle to be quite the intriguing figure._

_My mother has officially begun planning Prince Aden’s and my engagement celebration here in Arkadia. I try to tell her that she doesn’t need to plan this early, as the celebrations are still years away, but she insists that it must be perfect. I cannot fathom how she can remain so uptight. Does it not cause chest pain? I feel as though I am being smothered by her earnestness for my wedding._

_I had a lovely time with your brother, though I felt no romantic connection with him. I know he will be a dear friend to me, but I fear that I will never return his feelings. I did have such fun with him making fun of the diplomats who gave us “advice” concerning our union, but I felt as though I was playing with a childhood friend, not bonding with a lover. I’m sorry to put you in the position of being between your brother’s romantic feelings for me and my lack of romantic feelings for him, but I have no one else to turn to. To speak of such things with my father would only make him feel more guilty than he already is, and my mother will hear nothing of any complaints from me. While I would love to aggravate my mother more, I fear hurting my father by discussing such negative feelings about my situation. I know he does not want this for me, but alas, I must do my duty for my people, and we both know as much._

_I miss your companionship. I find the castle is dreadfully boring without our fireside literature talks. If you are ever in Arkadia, please alert me so I may find you at once. Please rescue me from my boring life._

_I wish you all the best in your studies and trainings._

_Sincerely,_

_Princess Clarke_

_..._

_20th January_

_Princess,_

_I beg of you, do not be so formal with me. You are more than welcome to call me by my chosen name, Lexa, even if those around you (save my brother) refuse to address me as such. And before you ask that I do the same for you, please consider my position —in a mere year, I will be bound to the duty (and honor) of serving you as my soon-to-be queen. To address you in any manner other than your title would be uncouth of me, and I will not allow it. _

_I will tell you something few know about me —why I do not like to be called Alexandria, or Princess. I do not identify with the name Alexandria at all. Not because I simply like the name Lexa better, but because the name Alexandria carries much weight with it—Alexandria, Princess of Trikru; Alexandria, named for her father, His Royal Highness Alexander IV. Alexandria is a princess, a lady, someone meant to be a wife and mother; she is not me, for I am a soldier. Princess, I beg of you, please do not call me her name. I no longer know who she is, but I have found myself, and I am Lexa. _

_I have indeed read Gawain, and I found the Lady to be my favorite character; though I wonder how much of her actions were her free will, and how much was dictated by her husband? Her actions wholly change whether they are her own, or the work of a man she must be subjected to. I must say, the Gawain poet has such a different way with sentence structure than any other I have read. I find, however, that I much prefer the recent publication of Gawain and Dame Ragnell; Dame Ragnell is a much stronger woman than Bertilak’s Lady of the Castle, and Gawain is more appealing, as well, as a man who understands a woman’s rights in the world. I implore of you; read this work, and respond with haste._

_I am sorry to hear that your opinion about your impending marriage has not changed. If I can be of any service to you in helping you feel more at ease with the idea, please let me know how. All I am able to do now though is to remind you that my brother does want to make you happy. Perhaps you do not love him in a romantic way, but if you can find a way to be satisfied with him as simply your life partner, perhaps that will be good enough to live on._

_I must admit, I miss your companionship as well, Princess. There are few people I associate with who wish to discuss literature with me. Aden is far too caught up in painting and learning about the newest techniques to pick up a novel; my parents are dreadfully egotistical about what they read and consider the new fantasy genre to be too childish, though I beg to differ. To hope that any of the brutes I train with in the army would read and discuss literature with me is laughable —none of them wish to spend time reading, let alone discussing what they have read! I might be able to convince my mentor, Anya, to read with me, but I risk being kicked in the gut for what she would deem a “foolish and undisciplined” request. Anya feels time not spent training is time wasted, even if in pursuit of intellectual knowledge or the arts._

_I fear our correspondence will have to do for now; I am not set to visit your homeland any time soon. Perhaps if you convince your parents to come to Polaris for some reason, I could sneak you to the marketplace and we could search for new literature together and spend the evenings in my reading room. It would give you more time to befriend Aden, as well. Perhaps your opinion will change if you give him a chance —or, if it doesn’t, you may at least learn how to come to terms with what you do feel, and decide where you want to go from there. Avoiding your feelings is unhealthy. _

_I look forward to your reply, Princess. Stay safe; I pray to Triga for your blessings and happiness. Know that though your heart may be conflicted now, I have full faith in the gods that something will bring you happiness one day, even if that happiness is only in the form of a true friendship with your husband. I will not let you be unhappy in this life, if I can help it; I will always be here for you. Simply tell me how I can be of assistance -- my life’s purpose is to serve and protect my family and my country, and now, you as well._

_Kindest regards,_

_Lexa_

**_..._ **

_3rd February,_

_Lexa,_

_I apologize for addressing you in the way I have. Had I known your reasoning behind disliking your birth title and name, I would have never called you such. I was simply trying to maintain respectability. I am happy to call you your chosen name, Lexa. It is beautiful._

_I will be visiting Polaris in March for your brother’s birthday festivities. I beg of you —please keep your promise and take me to your markets. I am not allowed to go into our marketplace alone, and I do not like the idea of being escorted like a child with a palace guard. I am dying for new literature. _

_I have sent a servant to find me a copy of this tale of Dame Ragnell. Perhaps, since I will see you in five weeks, I will keep my opinion to myself, for now, so we have something to discuss in person._

_Anya sounds lovely. Sarcasm aside, she does seem like a good mentor for you, even if not a good intellectual influence. I would love to meet her and convince her of the importance of the arts and literature. I have been told by many I am charming; perhaps I can charm her into joining our little literature club, for your sake. Though I warn you, I will be jealous if you discuss literature with another woman; to be cheated on in such a way is a tragedy, though I will suffer for your happiness if I must!_

_I have a new thought about Launcelot and Guinevere. I am continually drawn back to this work, for reasons I cannot explain. I still feel that Guinevere is too fickle, and that Launcelot is both the highest level of jerk, as well as the highest level of romantic muse; but I have come to the realization that, had they been normal people, they would have been destined for each other. It is only because Guinevere was royalty that she must be married off into a loveless marriage for her country. Without this duty, she would have been free to love any man she chose, and I have no doubt she would have chosen Launcelot. Maybe one day, in another life, they could love one another fully, and Arthur could find a worthier wife than that of an adulterous woman. Though I know it is wrong and sinful, I wish to read more about their courtly love._

_I look forward to seeing you again in person. I can make no such promises on the front of developing more romantic feelings for your brother, though I will try. If he can try, I suppose, so can I._

_You waste your life if your purpose is to serve me, Lexa. Serve your country and your country alone; I am alright on my own. Protect me, but do not serve me; you are worth far more than a servant. Do not belittle yourself in trying to respect me. You are the most honorable person I know._

_Sincerely,_

_Clarke_

**_..._ **

_1st March,_

_Princess,_

_I apologize for the late letter. I was urgently called out of town for military reasons —a riot broke out in Tondisi. There are rumors that the citizens spotted a man from Maunon in their midst. I find it impossible to believe that there are any survivors from that genocide, but the village insists. I fear what will happen if they are right, but I pray to Triga that they are wrong. You must not share this information with anyone, even your parents. My parents will be corresponding with them to alert them of this occurrence, but if word gets out that I have shared this vital information with you, I would risk my position. Still, I wish you to know what is happening in our country before you arrive (and I fear, if your parents are like mine were before I joined the military, they will not tell you so as to protect you from anxiety), so you know what to expect if I must leave urgently, or if you are ushered out of the country. _

_As for your actual letter, I will address you now — _

_Do not apologize for misnaming me, I never explained before now. I hold no ill regard against you for calling me my birth name; most people do, and I allow most people to. But I wish to be honest with you, since you are so honest with me. I feel as though we make good companions in secrecy —something which may be dangerous, given our positions in life, but something I am truly grateful for. We can understand one another in ways nobody else can… _

_I will honor my promise of taking you to the marketplace, so long as I am here in town. We can look for books together —but fear not, I will not leave you for Anya. I doubt she could keep up with my literary prowess as you do, anyway, so any attempt to leave you for discussion with her would only lead to my crawling back to you in agonizing, regretful sorrow, Princess. Besides—I did ask, and she did, indeed, kick me in the gut. Perhaps it is best if literature stays between its lovers; you and me. _

_I share your opinion about Launcelot and Guinevere. Had they been born into other roles, I feel their love story would have been epic; not tragic. But alas, they cannot help the cards they are given in life anymore than you and I, Princess. I look forward to our discussions surrounding Dame Ragnell when you are here later this month._

_My life is not wasted in serving you, Princess. My duty is to my country, but in a few years, you and Aden will be my country; without you two, there is no law, and my job is to maintain it. I will protect_ _and_ _serve you, Princess. It is my duty, and my privilege._

_I look forward to your safe arrival in Polaris. Travel well, and stay strong in spirits. My world in Polaris has more to offer than you know yet, but I hope you will find some happiness here._

_Kindest regards,_

_Lexa_

* * *

Clarke arrived in Polaris a week after receiving Lexa’s letter. She chose not to respond as she would be seeing the girl again so soon, but was sad to notice that she was glum while waiting around for a week without expecting a response from her friend.

After getting settled, Clarke was disheartened to hear that neither of the royal Trikru siblings were present in the castle upon her arrival. Her fiancé, she learned, was out of town for the next three days with his cousins, the boys having ushered him away on a secret trip to celebrate his upcoming eighteenth birthday. As for the princess, Clarke overheard her parents discussing with Adelaide and Alexander how Lexa was spending the day in the training grounds with her mentor, Anya. 

So, Clarke walked the halls of the palace alone after a dreadfully quiet dinner with the king and queen, assessing the paintings which lined the endless walls. Clarke made it back hundreds of years in the family’s history, finding the very first portrait of a royal Woods member. The princess was surprised to see that it was not a king who stood tall in that portrait, but a young queen. Clarke had just figured that, upon Trikru’s founding those some hundred years ago when their once great nation fractured into thirteen clans, a man had immediately taken power, as had happened in all of the other clans and kingdoms that popped up after the Great Divide. Clarke frowned, disappointed she had never heard this woman’s story; but that wasn’t too surprising, she supposed as she thought, considering that her classical history lessons hadn’t gone into great detail about any of the other clans after the Great Divide, only Skaikru. 

Clarke stared at the young woman before her, taking in her beauty. She was tall, with dark brown hair, a rich chestnut color. The same striking green eyes Clarke had seen in Lexa were reflected in the woman before her. Yes, Clarke supposed, the woman looked very similar to Lexa—though her lips weren’t as full as Lexa’s, her jaw not as square. She was certainly older than Lexa was, too, though she couldn’t have been more than thirty. 

“So you’ve met Queen Becca,” a familiar voice echoed in the nearly empty hall.

Clarke turned, a smile stretching her lips as she eyes met Lexa’s. “Is that her name?”

Lexa nodded, her hands clasped behind her back. “Queen Becca was our first ruler after the Divide. My fifteenth great-grandmother, I believe, if the records are correct,” Lexa said. “She was a stern queen, but good. Our nation never fell into poverty under her reign, even though we should have after the Divide when we had years of little trade capability. She was merciless with her rules, but her structure kept our economy strong. She had eleven children, eight of which died before they were grown, and three husbands, each passed before she did. She suffered so much loss, but she never let it weaken her.”

“She sounds like a strong woman,” Clarke said, glancing between the princess before her and the queen in the painting. “I suppose that’s where you get your spunk,” 

“My spunk?” Lexa laughed, stepping closer to assess the painting. “Yes, perhaps.”

“What are you doing here?” Clarke asked, changing the subject. “I heard you were to spend all day training,”

Lexa shrugged, and only then did Clarke notice her damp hair, the curls beginning to frizz ever so slightly as they started to dry. “As soon as I heard of your arrival, I told Anya enough was enough for the evening and I returned home. I would have joined you for dinner, but I wanted to bathe after spending a day out in the dirt with someone as uncouth as Anya. I fear your boredom here while Aden is away, so I will put my training on hold and spend the next few days with you until his return,”

Clarke felt her chest tighten at the smile Lexa gave her. “Oh, please, I do not wish to interrupt your training—” Clarke insisted, before Lexa shushed her gently.

“Please, Princess, I can take a break. Good warriors know when to stop training for a moment and relax in peace times.” Lexa offered an arm to Clarke. “I know you just ate, but I am simply famished. Would you care to accompany me to the kitchens?”

Clarke finally returned Lexa’s smile. She gently looped her arm through the older girls, nodding politely. “I would love to join you.” As they began walking through the long hallways, a comfortable silence enveloped the two. The only sounds made were the echo of their footsteps and the velvet fabric of Clarke’s skirt brushing against the soft cotton of Lexa’s billowing trousers, but Clarke did not mind the calm, quiet walk, as it allowed her to continue to observe the palace around her. Clarke wondered why Lexa was being so formal with her, guiding her through the halls as though they were at some ball when in reality, the two of them were practically alone, save for the guards here and there keeping watch over the palace. Still, Clarke mused, she felt safe in Lexa’s gentle hold. 

When they finally arrived at the kitchens, Clarke was a little disappointed when Lexa parted from her. The two made polite conversation as Lexa gathered some fruit. They discussed the weather as Lexa prepared a small bowl of fruit salad, the recent advisory meetings Lexa had attended as she prepared a simple cheese sandwich, and gossipped about the newest court scandals as Lexa ate and Clarke picked at a few of the juicy strawberries in Lexa’s bowl. After cleaning up over a conversation about how, shockingly, one of the celibate priestesses had been discovered to be pregnant, Lexa asked Clarke if she knew where her parents were.

Clarke gave the older girl a confused look, shaking her head. “No, I don’t. Do you wish to speak with them about something?”

“No,” Lexa said, stuffing her hands in her pants pockets as she leaned back against the kitchen wall. “I simply must make sure they are well out of sight if I am to sneak you out of the palace and take you to the marketplace,” she said with a grin. “That is, if you’re still willing to accompany me.”

Clarke’s heart swelled. She practically lunged at Lexa, pulling her into a tight hug and spinning around with her. “Yes, yes, please! I have been _dreaming_ of what I might find in your markets!” Lexa froze under the girl’s touch, and for a moment Clarke was afraid she had overstepped the boundaries of their friendship. After several agonizing moments of Lexa remaining still, Clarke finally laughed as she felt Lexa pull her hands from her pockets and return her hug. Still in Lexa’s embrace, she brought her head from Lexa’s shoulder and looked her in the eyes. “Will I get you in trouble?”

“Perhaps,” Lexa laughed, “but I have a feeling you will be getting both my brother and I in trouble for the rest of our lives, so why not start now, Princess?”

Clarke let out a joking scoff, swatting at Lexa’s arm. “What makes you say that?”

Lexa hummed thoughtfully, quieting. Her observant glace both unsettled and excited Clarke, wondering what the girl could be thinking. “I don’t know how to describe you, my friend,” Lexa said gently, a hand coming from the small of Clarke’s back to brush away a soft golden curl. “You have an adventurous spirit. One that cannot be contained in the palace walls. You speak of duty and obligation, but like Guinevere, you long to be free,” Lexa finally released Clarke, stepping back. “I cannot grant you the freedom your heart desires, but I can try to give you at least one night,” she offered. “After all, I think my friend deserves as much when you’ve told me so much about how your heart is hurting.”

Clarke was stunned by the reverence in her friend’s words. She felt empty without Lexa’s arms around her, the comforting embrace of one of her only true friends so fulfilling. Her heartbeat thumped, echoing in her ears as she let the weight of Lexa’s words sink into her. “I fear I have already gotten Aden in trouble quite the number of times with our escaping parties early,” Clarke spoke with a laugh. “I must involve you in my scandalous behavior, as well, then,”

“It’s only fair,” Lexa nodded with a smile. “Come, we have to change—you did not bring anything more casual, did you?” Lexa asked, assessing Clarke’s gown.

“Is there something wrong with my dress?” Clarke asked, looking down. She gave it a gentle swish, grabbing both sides of her skirt with her hands and letting the light blue fabric sway. “This _is_ a casual dress,”

Lexa laughed, placing a hand on Clarke’s back to guide her as they began walking. “It’s lovely, Princess; but a dress like that in the marketplace will draw much unwanted attention. You can borrow something of mine, then,”

“We really must be becoming the best of friends if we’re dressing up in each others’ clothes, now,” Clarke mused aloud with a smile, not noticing the way Lexa glanced at her, opening her mouth to speak before letting it fall closed once more. “Do you have any dresses? I fear I am not accustomed to wearing pants and I would be wildly uncomfortable,"

“I guarantee you, pants are _much_ more comfortable, Princess,” Lexa spoke as they began walking up the grand staircase leading to the upstairs residences. They walked several flights, before taking a turn and heading down the east wing, Lexa’s quarters. “But if you desire to wear a dress, we just must make sure you wear a cloak, as well. It will be much more plain than any dress I own,”

Clarke nodded, in awe at the enormity of the private wing. “These rooms are all yours?” She asked, poking her head in several open doors to see what was in each. A private kitchen was in one room, a cozy reading room with a large fireplace in another. 

“Yes,” Lexa nodded, watching as Clarke looked around as though she had never seen a palace before. “My room is just ahead,” she said, lithe fingers wrapping gently around Clarke’s wrist to pull her along. 

If Clarke was stunned by the reading room, she was absolutely floored by Lexa’s private bedroom. A large bed was the focal point of the room, soft, plush blankets lining the expansive mattress. A canopy of nearly sheer green fabric provided privacy for the princess’s bed, and Clarke could tell that, when not pulled back so as to expose the bed, the canopy lined each and every side to wholly enclose the large structure. Adjacent from the bed was a smaller reading area, a loveseat and end table facing the fireplace to the side of Lexa’s large bed. Many armoires lined the far wall of the room, no doubt housing Lexa’s clothing, and a set of large doors on the sidewall caught Clarke’s attention. She immediately walked to them, opening them and gasping as a large stone balcony greeted her. “Oh, how lovely,” Clarke sighed. 

“Your room at your own home is very similar, Princess,” Lexa said with a laugh, watching Clarke move around the room like a blind man seeing the world for the first time. 

“Yes, but it’s not _this_ nice,” Clarke said, stepping out into the chilly early March air. “And I certainly do not have a view as beautiful as this one,”

Lexa smiled as she observed Clarke. The younger girl’s golden hair blew gently in the wind, the light of the nearly setting sun bouncing off of the silver of her tiara. Her pale blue dress almost blended in with the sky before her. “Yes, it is a rather beautiful view, isn’t it?” Lexa mused, before walking to stand beside Clarke. “We best be getting dressed, Princess. I would hate for it to be too dark for us to go,”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Clarke said, looking back at Lexa. “Well, I trust you. Pick whatever you think will make me blend in the most here,”

“That would be quite impossible, Princess,” Lexa said, tapping the crown of Clarke’s head. “You look positively too regal.”

“Well, make me a peasant, then!” Clarke cheered, walking back into the large bedroom. She made her way to Lexa’s bed, sitting on the edge and crossing her ankles. “Dress me up, Lexa,” she said dramatically, extending her arms to her sides and letting herself fall back against the bed. 

“You can certainly dress yourself,” Lexa said with a snort. She made her way to one of her largest armoires, opening the double doors. She shifted through the dresses hanging before her, settling on a rosy pink dress, a simple cotton fabric with three quarter length sleeves and a touch of lace across the bust. She searched next for a cloak, pulling one she rarely wore, a floor-length one in an earthy brown color with a hood. “Here, I hope they fit alright. I haven’t worn the dress since I was...fifteen or sixteen?” Lexa mused. “And I have rarely worn the cloak.”

“Pink not your color?” Clarke teased, taking the clothing from Lexa. 

“Not really,” Lexa said, rolling her eyes at Clarke’s tone. “Surprising, I know. My mother still tries to get me to be rather feminine.”

“Well, I think it’s lovely,” Clarke said, setting the clothing on the bed. Lexa returned to the open armoire, grabbing her trusty green cloak, tried and true, before easily throwing it over her already casual attire. 

“I’ll be just outside to give you some privacy,” Lexa nodded, exiting the room and shutting the grand door with a small click. 

Clarke held the dress up before her, frowning. She certainly had a larger bust than Lexa, so it might be a bit of a tight squeeze, but she supposed she could make do. Comparing her own velvet dress to the cotton one before her, she _was_ afraid she would be far too out of place in such a fancier gown, so it was nice of Lexa to offer a change of clothes. Still, what she was wearing _was_ casual for her—she sighed, thinking about how this was simply one of the many cultural differences she would have to accustom herself to before her marriage. She hadn’t even thought about the semantics of _attire_ before, though she figured that was something she would have to learn about as well, to ensure she would not offend anyone by arriving to events too casual or too overdressed. 

She made quick work of ridding herself of her dress, placing it on the bed. As she stood in her underdress, Clarke felt rather exposed—and putting on the dress of her friend wouldn’t help. Clarke sighed as she saw that the back of the cotton dress required some lacing as she undid the material. She tied it back up to the best of her ability once it was on her body, but found herself unable to go any higher than her mid back. She could simply throw the cloak on and call it a day, but surely she would be uncomfortable with the open fabric flapping around as she walked. She glanced at the door, before quickly making her way over. She opened it slightly, finding Lexa leaning against the wall with one foot propped up behind her. “Lexa?” She asked, poking her head out. “I think I require your assistance,”

“My assistance?” Lexa asked curiously, stepping away from the wall, but not looking over at Clarke. “Are you dressed?” 

“Mostly,” Clarke laughed. “I cannot lace the back up myself.”

“Ah,” Lexa said. “I forgot that one required lacing. You can simply grab something else if you wish—”

“No,” Clarke interrupted, shaking her head. “This works. I just need a tad bit of help, please,”

Lexa nodded, finally looking over at Clarke. The shoulders of the girl’s dress were hanging away from Clarke’s body, showing the slightest hint of Clarke’s exposed clavicle. Clarke watched as Lexa tore her eyes away. “Alright, turn around, then,” she said, clearing her throat. Clarke stood up straight and did so, holding the fabric of the dress to her chest as she looked forward. Lexa hesitated before reaching for the laces, seeing the silken white fabric of Clarke’s underdress resting against her back. She made quick work of lacing the dress up, wanting nothing more than to get the image of her brother’s fiancée’s silk-covered back out of her head before she could ruminate on _that_ for too long. “You’re all set,” Lexa said after a moment, stepping away. “You should get the cloak, and,” Lexa paused, pointing to Clarke’s head. “You may want to take that off.”

“Oh,” Clarke said, reaching for her tiara. She pulled it off gently, letting the bits of her curls that had been tucked away in the tiara flow freely. “Where should I keep it?” 

“On one of my dressers is fine,” Lexa said. “But I can store it with mine, if that would make you feel better.” Clarke nodded, handing the older girl her tiara. Lexa made quick work of locking it in one of her drawers, alongside jewelry of her own, while Clarke put on the soft, rose-colored cloak. Lexa reached for a cross-body bag, slinging it over herself. “Are you ready?”

* * *

The marketplace was bustling in the early evening. Though the sun was beginning to set, people lined the streets, vendors yelling to passersby about their deals. “The bookshop is right down the street,” Lexa said, keeping a protective hand on Clarke’s back as they walked. Clarke had noticed Lexa situate a small dagger to her thigh before they had left, hidden under the cloak, so she felt safe enough between Lexa’s protective hold and the knowledge of the warrior princess beside her being armed. Lexa’s hood was drawn up, hiding most of her chestnut curls, and Clarke supposed she was rather unrecognizable to the middle class here, who had most likely never been inside the palace walls to see the princess. 

When they finally reached the bookshop, Lexa let her hood fall down. “Ah, if it isn’t my favorite customer!” An old man greeted them, hobbling over to them on his cane. “Lexa, it’s good to see you! Weren’t you just here though? My daughter told me that you visited here just yesterday,”

“Well, I told Costia to keep it a secret, I didn’t want you to get jealous on me, old man,” Lexa laughed, clapping a hand on the man’s shoulder. 

“Who is this lovely lady with you?” The man asked, extending a hand to Clarke. Clarke noticed how his dark, wrinkled skin had age spots lining his arm. 

“My friend,” Lexa said. “She’s my brother’s fiancée,” 

“Ah, you must be the princess I’ve heard so much about, then,” the old man said, bowing his head respectfully. Clarke looked over at Lexa, a twinge of panic on her face, before Lexa assuaged her. 

“Old Man Greene is a good man, Princes. He was a knight in my father’s court a long time ago. The Greene family knows us well. They keep my secret when I visit here, so they’ll keep yours, as well,”

Clarke relaxed at that, finally shaking the old man’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Greene,”

“Oh, please, call him ‘Old Man,’” a new voice chimed in. “No one’s called him by his knight title since way before I was born.”

Clarke turned to the sound of the new voice, eyes widening. Before her was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. She must’ve been a few years older than Lexa, Clarke supposed. She had doe-like brown eyes and a face full of freckles which looked like stardust across her tanned cheeks. She was dressed in a plain red dress, but it’s plainness suited her natural beauty greatly. Her long black hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she had a few books propped against her hip. 

“Princess, I’d like you to meet Costia, one of my closest friends,” Lexa said, gesturing to Costia. The older woman gave Clarke a polite bow. 

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Costia said, walking to Clarke with an outstretched hand. 

Clarke shook the woman’s hand, stunned by how casual everyone was being despite knowing of her and Lexa’s titles. “Finally?” She asked, confused.

“Lexa’s been in and out here for weeks trying to find good books for you,” Costia smiled. “She’s been telling me all about your little literature chats.”

“Do you read, much?” Clarke asked, feeling a twinge of jealousy at thinking about Costia and Lexa sharing the same literary conversations as she and Lexa. 

“I do,” Costia nodded. “But not as much as I used to. I work as a seamstress most days, but I help my father out when I have some down time. It’s always nice to hear Lexa come ramble about some new book I have to read,” Costia smiled. 

Clarke felt her heart sink. So she _did_ talk to Costia about their books. “Yes, she’s quite a lovely reading companion,” Clarke said. 

“Well,” Lexa interrupted, “we can’t stay out too long, so let’s look around then, alright Clarke?” She asked, placing her hand on Clarke’s back once more. “We’ll go straight to the fantasy section,” 

Lexa led her through the small bookstore into an adjacent room, the walls lined with several shelves filled to the brim. “I’ve done some preliminary searching, as I came here yesterday,” Lexa hummed, leading Clarke to a specific bookshelf. “I figure you would like these the best,” she gestured to a specific shelf. 

Clarke smiled in thanks, beginning to look through the books one by one. She assessed the covers, read the small inscriptions in the first few pages, and finally settled on one which looked promising. It wasn’t too large, in fact, it was a rather small book. It was filled with various tales, rather than being one large book. “Chretien de Troyes?” Clarke mused, letting the strange words fall off her lips. 

“A man from the Yujledakru,” Lexa said, tapping the cover. “Supposedly the Yujledakru is trying to build more universities and become as intellectually distinguished as Delfikru, so new authors are popping up everywhere. I’ve heard good things about this collection; it’s supposedly retellings of Arthurian stories with some new ones thrown in the mix,”

“Well, we should try it,” Clarke said, scanning the shelf for another copy. She was disappointed to see that she was holding the only one available. “Shame, maybe we should try something else then?”

“We could...read it aloud,” Lexa suggested with a shrug. “We have the next three days before Aden returns, plenty of time to read together, if you’d like,” 

Clarke smiled, looking at the pink blush on Lexa’s cheeks. “Does that embarrass you?” She asked softly.

“Well, reading aloud to one another is much more intimate than one reading on their own,” Lexa said. “Something only close friends do. I would only be okay with it if you were,”

“Of course I am,” Clarke said, resting her hand on Lexa’s arm. She couldn’t help but feel a little proud of herself (and a tad possessive) for getting this part of Lexa all to herself. “As you said, literature should stay between its lovers, you and me,” Clarke whispered. “And what are lovers if not intimate?” She teased, taking a large step back as she assessed the book once more. “I would have no other friend of mine share in such a thing with me, Lexa,” she began walking to the front of the store. “Hurry,” she said, turning her head toward Lexa and nodding. “If we get home soon, we can start tonight!”

* * *

The next few days found Clarke quite happier than she had been in a long while.

Her mornings started with a lovely breakfast with the king and queen, followed by tea with Lexa on her balcony in her private quarters. Though the morning air was chilly; she made good use of the cloak Lexa had loaned to her, wearing it snugly every morning as they sat on the stone outlook and made small talk over their tea. They would only leave the balcony once lunch was called, and would return to eat with their parents and discuss whatever political issues were brought up by the older couples. Her early afternoons were free with Lexa attending her daily advisory meetings, leaving Clarke to explore the castle. She also made good use of Aden’s art room, spending much of her free time drawing with charcoal and even painting one picture, a watercolor portrait of her newfound best friend. Though it was not her best work, she gifted it to Lexa on their second day together, and Clarke had sworn she had never seen so much awe in one person’s eyes as she saw in Lexa’s while she assessed Clarke’s painting. Dinners were quite the intense affair each night, grand meals prepared for the small family and their guests, with bounties of desserts to be offered. Clarke frowned each night at the waste which left the table, but was reassured by Lexa that Aden and she had already, years ago, forced their parents to have the kitchen staff donate the leftover food each day to the townspeople, dispersing it between the orphanage in the clan’s capitol and the homeless district. Each evening after dinner, Lexa and Clarke retired to Lexa’s reading room, where they took turns reading aloud short stories to one another. 

Tonight, on the last night they had together before the prince’s arrival in the morning, Clarke and Lexa were reading the last short story in the collection, entitled _The Knight of the Cart_. Clarke was thrilled to find it was another story about the romance between Guinevere and Launcelot, and Lexa smiled as she watched Clarke gaily read the story aloud with passion. As she recounted the tale of the Queen’s kidnapping by the evil Meleagant, Clarke spoke dramatically, reciting the Queen’s woes. Of Launcelot’s quest for finding the Queen, Clarke spoke quickly, recounting the tale with the same urgency as Launcelot’s urgency to find the missing Queen. Clarke was speaking so eloquently, so impassioned, that Lexa was almost lost in the narrative, when Clarke quieted with a blush. Lexa quirked an eyebrow, watching as Clarke glanced up from the book and met Lexa’s eyes. At Lexa’s nod, Clarke cleared her throat.

“ _He comes to the bed of the Queen, whom he adores and before whom he kneels, holding her more dear than the relic of any saint. And the Queen extends her arms to him, and, embracing him, presses him tightly against her bosom, drawing him into the bed beside her and showing him every possible satisfaction; her love and her heart go out to him. It is love that prompts her to treat him so; and if she feels great love for him, he feels a hundred thousand times as much for her. For there is no love at all in other hearts compared with what there is in his; in his heart love was so completely embodied that it was stingy toward all other hearts. Now Launcelot possesses all he wants, when the Queen voluntarily seeks his company and love, and when he holds her in his arms, and she holds him in hers.”_ Clarke paused, feeling the heat on her cheeks grow. In truth, as Lexa sat and watched the girl before her read, Lexa had to tear her eyes away from Clarke as she felt her own face heat up at the suggestiveness of the scene being read to her. “ _Their sport is so agreeable and sweet, as they kiss and fondle each other, that in truth such a marvelous joy comes over them as was never heard or known._ ” Clarke cleared her throat, looking up to see Lexa looking away. 

“Do you wish for me to stop?” Clarke asked softly, letting the book shut. 

“A break to stretch our legs might be called for,” Lexa nodded, standing. Clarke followed suit, setting the book aside and standing up as well. “This author is...much more risque than I believe I have read before in such Arthurian works,” Lexa mused, her reddened cheeks fading to a soft pink.

“Surely,” Clarke nodded, smoothing down the sides of her dress with her hands, simply trying to busy herself. She made her way to the fire, ensuring that it was still roaring, and knelt before it, letting the flames warm her body. “I should have skipped such a scene, my apologies, Lexa.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” Lexa said from across the room, sitting down once more. “Authors will be authors,” she supposed. “Sex sells, Princess, I’m just sorry if it has caused an embarrassing moment between us.”

“Oh, I’m not embarrassed!” Clarke said, rising to her feet once more. She made her way back to the couches, sitting across from Lexa. “I could not be embarrassed before you. A tad shy, perhaps,” she admitted. “But that is mostly because...I have never read something of the sort in front of someone so openly before,” she shrugged. “Let alone had it discussed with another in person, at all.”

“At all?” Lexa asked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Clarke cleared her throat, “aside from medical lessons when I became a woman,” she gestured to herself, “no one has ever discussed the semantics of physical intimacy with me, before. So I apologize for being shy in reading aloud the occurrence of such; I suppose actually discussing it for the first time in a...romantic sense has made me shy.”

“You’ve never…” Lexa trailed off, before clearing her throat. “Forgive me, that’s quite a personal question. We can skip the scene and continue reading. Perhaps I can finish the tale,” Lexa said, reaching for the book.

Clarke grabbed Lexa’s wrist. “You can ask me anything, Lexa,” she said. “I am your friend, after all.”

Lexa nodded, her hand falling back to her lap as Clarke released it. “I just...find it interesting that no one has ever discussed sex with you as more than a means of reproduction,” Lexa said. “You are a woman, after all.”

“Well, it is just a means of reproduction, ultimately,” Clarke shrugged. “Isn’t it?”

Lexa paled. Yeah, asking Clarke this question was going to lead down a long road of topics that probably should have been avoided. “Well, yes,” Lexa said, “but your instructors never told you how sex is meant to be...well, intimate, as well? Romantic?”

Clarke waved her hand, guffawing. “Oh, Lexa, I’m seventeen, not seven. Of course I know what it’s _supposed_ to be. I _do_ read a lot. But that kind of intimacy is reserved for those actually in love,” she said. “I have never deluded myself into thinking that, for me, sex will be anything more than a means of providing an heir. For the average woman who loves her husband, sure, she might enjoy it, or use it as a way to show love. But for someone like myself, it will be something _observed_ ,” Clarke shuddered. “Watched. Calculated by my moon cycle to result in offspring. I am sure I will find no joy in it whatsoever. It will be," she searched for the word, "clinical,” she shrugged. “I suppose I find myself a bit shy, then, when discussing it as such a loving encounter, different from my own perceptions of what my life will be…” she trailed off. "I know I may have been teasing about us being intimate lovers of literature, but that is one thing. Intimacy between real lovers is something I have never hoped for, nor do I expect."

Lexa nodded, her throat feeling rather dry. “Well, I cannot say I wish to discuss you and my younger brother being... _intimate_ ,” Lexa averted her eyes, clearing her throat, “but I doubt someone as gentle as Aden is would make such an occurrence horrible for you, even if it may not be your romantic fantasy.”

“I cannot say I wish to discuss such matters either,” Clarke sighed. “But I have only a few years left until they are my reality, so I may as well attempt to get comfortable with the facts,”

“It won’t be that bad,” Lexa promised, placing a comforting hand on Clarke’s knee.

Clarke smiled in thanks, settling her hand over Lexa’s. “Well, I’m afraid it will,” she cleared her throat once more. “Considering you of all people will have to _watch_ ,”

Lexa froze. “What do you mean?”

Clarke looked up, confused by the other girl’s confusion. “The bedding ceremony?” Clarke said. “Please, I know you know what it is, both of our cultures share it. After the wedding, the high priestesses and the political advisor from the nation have to observe to make sure the marriage is...consummated,” Clarke cringed, “So there are no grounds for divorce. And you’re the Trikru advisor,” she said slowly, as if spelling it out for Lexa. “To report to the king and queen,” she said even slower, “so, you know, you...advise...that it is done.”

Lexa didn’t know what she felt. Her hand went clammy against the fabric of Clarke’s dress; her heart felt as though it had abandoned ship and leapt out of her throat. No; of _course_ she had known about the custom, but somewhere there had been a disconnect in her mind of that being one of her many responsibilities. Knowing that she would have to witness such a thing, between her new friend and her _brother_ …

“That is a rule I am changing,” Lexa coughed, uncomfortable. “I will not put you, me, or my brother through such an event,” 

All of the sudden, Clarke began laughing aloud, her hands coming to her face to cover her mouth. Lexa frowned, confused by the sudden outburst, and Clarke shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said from behind her hands, her body shaking as laughs took over her. “It’s just -- so _uncomfortable_ to think about you watching me sleep with your brother,” she laughed again, tears beginning to spill from her eyes.“Oh,” Clarke said, wiping at her eyes. “What a dreaded thing! I certainly hope you have success in getting out of _that_ responsibility, or I may never be able to meet your eyes again,”

Lexa let a weak laugh escape past her lips, though she didn’t particularly find it funny. A sour thought crossed her mind. “Oh, gods,” she said, realization dawning on her. “That means my dear Aunt Therise had to watch my father have sex with my mother,” Lexa shook her head. “This is so messed up; _relatives_ should not have to—of all the people—!” Lexa stood, wiping her hands on her pants as if trying to clean them from the soiled idea of such a practice. 

“If it must happen, it must happen,” Clarke said after calming down, standing to walk next to Lexa. Gently, she placed a hand on Lexa’s arm. “It’s years away. If we must get through it, at least we will get through it together...quite literally,” Clarke tried to give a reassuring smile through her joke. “It isn’t ideal, but what about our lives are?”

Lexa frowned, looking at the younger girl with pity. “You can’t escape even a single night of torture, can you? Something must always come up which reminds you of how unhappy you’ll be for the rest of your life.”

“Well,” Clarke shrugged, “I can’t say I’ll be wholly unhappy, so long as I have you by my side, Lexa.” She gave Lexa’s arm a squeeze, before pulling her hand away. “At least my marriage will provide a close companionship with you, even if it does not being me marital happiness. I suppose I can...survive on a kind husband in Aden and a good friend in you, even if it isn’t what I would choose for myself.” 

Lexa didn’t know what to say in response, so she simply nodded. “Well,” she said, “we should probably finish the story for the night. Aden will be home tomorrow and the festivities will begin.”

Lexa only listened to Clarke’s reading half-heartedly the rest of the evening, her mind racing. She was torn between thinking about her pity for the princess before her, the admiration she felt for the young woman, and the nagging feeling of something not settling well within Lexa knowing that Clarke would very well have to _survive_ instead of find the happiness she desperately wanted—and deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me on tumblr at legendofbisexuals. 
> 
> Reference for The Knight of the Cart excerpt:
> 
> De Troyes, Chretien. "The Knight of the Cart." Trans. W. W. Comfort. Accessed on www.heroofcamelot.com.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very clexa-centered. A chapter of many, many confessions and the beginnings of revelations.

_IV._

Lexa stared at her ceiling. Try as she may, she could not fall asleep—hour after hour, she was plagued with thoughts of empathy and pity towards the princess sleeping only a corridor away. Thoughts raced through Lexa’s head; worry, fear, doubt, shame, all for the young woman she had grown to call a friend. She felt guilty for the role she had played in Clarke’s engagement to her younger brother; she had fully endorsed it, as the political adviser for Trikru, especially when Clarke, three years prior, had seemed wary of, but committed to, the idea. Knowing the woman, now, Lexa shared the worried anticipation Clarke had, fearing Clarke’s eternal unhappiness in her marriage.

But what use was it to Lexa to worry about such matters? Clarke was a princess, and this was her fate; a fate which would have been Lexa’s, too, had she not found the loophole in the old Trikru law. But Clarke, the princess of Skaikru, the sole heir to the House of Griffin, had no way of weaseling herself out of a political marriage. Though Lexa knew it was not wholly her fault for the marriage, the guilt consumed her, eating away at Lexa throughout the evening and the early hours of the morning. 

Glancing through the gauzy haze of the canopy surrounding her bed, Lexa could see the beginnings of the morning’s twilight pouring through her windows. Sleep, then, was not worth trying for, as her handmaidens would be in to wake her in only a matter of time. Letting her eyes rest for a moment, Lexa took a deep breath, steadying herself and calming her thoughts. She would do no good for herself—or Clarke—by pitying the princess. The decisions had been made and it would be a good marriage for both of their kingdoms. What she could focus on now was rectifying her mistake in advocating for the marriage by trying her best to be a companion to Clarke.

Lexa opened her eyes once more, sitting upright. She tugged at the fabric around her bed, easily sliding it aside, and stepped out of bed, her bare feet touching the cold ground. Lexa walked to the reading area of her room, slipping the long robe which rested over her loveseat over her sleeping clothes. She left her bedroom, shutting the door behind her quietly as she walked towards the larger reading room down the corridor. Perhaps she could light a candle and catch up on some of the novellas she had started recently; after all, if rest would not find her, perhaps Lexa could at least relax in the beautiful prose of one of her favorite writers. 

Lexa came to a halt as she entered the reading room, finding the princess she had been thinking and worrying about all night asleep on the couch, the book they had been reading the night before settled haphazardly across her stomach. Lexa smiled at the image; it seemed Clarke had a similar idea in the middle of the night. Perhaps thoughts of unease had kept her awake, as well. Lexa approached quietly, so as not to startle the sleeping girl, and knelt next to the couch. Gingerly, she took the book from Clarke’s stomach and shut it, placing it on the end table next to the couch. Lexa reached to wake the princess, but hesitated. 

She looked much happier like this, dreaming peacefully. Though some would say the princess was not the most elegant sleeper (her golden curls were ruffled and rumpled, and it appeared that there was a slight amount of drool that had pooled and dried at the corner of her mouth), a gentle smile rested on the princess’s rosy lips. Clarke rested her head on her right hand, and her left was draped over her chest dramatically, almost as if she had intended to fall asleep in a seductive manner. Lexa couldn’t help but chuckle to herself at the image of Clarke in such a way, but her laughing ceased as she stared at the sapphire on Clarke’s ring finger. Once more, guilt coursed through Lexa’s veins, seeing her brother’s betrothal gift so delicately rested on Clarke’s hand. Surely, it was not a piece of jewelry the young woman wanted to wear, yet she wore it nonetheless.

Lexa frowned, noticing the princess shiver. She glanced at the fireplace, remembering that they had put it out before going to bed the night before. She must’ve been chilly in here without the fire all night. Instead of waking her, Lexa made the decision to let the princess sleep. She stood, tugging at the knot on her silk robe and letting it fall off of her body. Carefully, she draped the fabric over Clarke’s body, and the girl’s shivering stopped soon after. 

Lexa settled into the loveseat next to the couch, grabbing one of the many half-read novellas from the coffee table before her, and opened the book. She read quietly, sparing silent glances at the princess every so often to ensure the sound of the turning pages did not wake her. Lexa had read nearly twenty pages when the sound of Clarke stirring caught her attention, and she looked up to see Clarke pulling the robe Lexa had rested on her even closer to her body, nuzzling her nose into the fabric. Lexa smiled at that, the image of Clarke resting peacefully easing the bonds of guilt on her heart. Lexa knew, in that moment, if she could make her new friend smile in such a way, she would do everything in her power to ensure that her presence and friendship provided a brief respite of ease for the princess.

She sat in silence until the sun was shining through the large windows of the reading room, and until Clarke stirred for real. She watched, amused, as Clarke blinked awake in confusion, clearly not remembering having fallen asleep away from her bed the night prior. 

Clarke ran her fingers along the silk delicately, wondering where the blanket had come from, before her eyes met Lexa’s. “Hi,” she croaked, her voice cracking.

Lexa smiled. “Good morning, Princess,”

“Did I fall asleep out here?” Clarke asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. 

“You must’ve,” Lexa nodded. “I saw you were shivering, so I rested my robe on you. I didn’t have a blanket in here; my apologies, Princess.”

“No, thank you,” Clarke said, her throat scratchy from sleep. “Did you fall asleep here, too?”

“No,” Lexa said softly. “I couldn’t sleep. I came to read and found you on my couch,” she said.

“Sorry,” Clarke apologized. “I must’ve dozed off while reading. I didn’t mean to infringe on your space,”

“It’s no trouble at all, Princess,” Lexa said, setting her book aside. “What’s mine is yours, when you are here. Don’t be afraid to take whatever you need from me,”

The words hang heavy between them, Clarke understanding that there was more to Lexa’s words than simply implying she could borrow a robe or a couch to sleep on. She nodded once, gratefully, unable to think of what to say in response. She shivered in the cold morning air, her thin nightgown doing nothing to shield her from the biting air of the castle. “Can I wear this to warm up?” She asked, lifting the robe in her hands. Lexa nodded. Clarke slipped it on gratefully, easing into the warmth of the fabric, which had been heated by her skin, and the familiar smell of the earth which seemed to follow Lexa wherever she went. “Thank you, Lexa.” She murmured, her cheeks going red. 

“Aden will be returning shortly,” Lexa said after a long silence. “You may want to be wearing something other than his sister’s silk robe when he inevitably seeks you out,” she said with a teasing smile.

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “Are you insinuating this looks like something less innocent than a friend simply borrowing a robe?”

“You know how people like to imagine,” Lexa said, the teasing smile refusing to leave her lips. “Though Aden is much like a puppy; he is more excited by the people he sees than his surroundings. You could greet him in my full army regalia and he probably wouldn’t notice a thing,”

Clarke laughed, but stood up. “Perhaps I should get ready for the day,” she nodded. “Thank you for taking care of me,” Clarke nearly whispered the second part, eyes falling to the floor as she felt the back of her neck prickle with heat.

“I was simply reading in my reading room,” Lexa said with a nod, choosing not to comment on the rosiness of the girl’s cheeks. “You just happened to be sleeping on my couch,” 

Clarke rolled her eyes. “You can just say ‘you’re welcome,’ you know.” With that, she left the room, leaving Lexa alone once more with her thoughts.

The smiles she pulled from Clarke—they were some reassurance that she, at least, was a source of happiness in her friend’s life. She only hoped she would see the same smile reflected on the princess’s face where Aden was concerned.

Yet, as Lexa thought these words to herself, something in her heart did not feel quite right.

* * *

Clarke watched the guests dance from her place at the table. Being the fiancée of the birthday prince in question, Clarke was seated at the very front of the large ballroom, alongside many other nobles and council members. Aden had, in his good manners, gone to greet his many guests, leaving Clarke behind to make introductions with several of the adults she would come to work with in the future. Clarke tried to follow along with the conversation, nodding halfheartedly when appropriate and laughing when those around her did, but the words rang empty in her ears.

“And what do _you_ think, Princess Clarke?” One of the council women—Clarke couldn’t remember her name—was staring at her expectantly.

“Pardon?” Clarke asked, tearing her eyes away from the dance floor. Her cheeks dusted pink. “My apologies; I was distracted.”

“Well, of course you were!” A man (Clarke recognized him as a knight by the insignia on his chest) laughed. “A young lady like you doesn’t want to be sitting here talking with old hoots like us; you should be out there, dancing the night away!”

Clarke smiled politely and dipped her head. “Not at all, sir,” Clarke said. “Forgive me, everyone. I merely was distracted. Besides, I find it wouldn’t be very appropriate to dance with any other than my betrothed, and he’s quite busy with the Duchess of Tondisi, it seems,” Clarke gestured to where Aden was a few yards away, chatting with a woman who appeared to be in her forties. “What is it you would like my opinion on?”

The council woman pursed her lips. “We were discussing Princess Alexandria’s rather…different life path. Now that her induction into the military is approaching, people are beginning to talk about what this means for her, as well as the country.”

“I for one think it’s marvelous,” the same knight who had spoken earlier said. “I think it’s time the world sees a strong woman commander like Alexandria. Not that Commander Indra isn’t strong; far from it. But a young pair of eyes always does well for a country.”

“I think it’s quite uncouth and unladylike,” Clarke’s gaze settled back on the council woman. She was thin and wiry, and her nose looked rather like a bird’s beak. “I mean no offense to Queen Adelaide and King Alexander,” she said with a nod, “but as a woman raised by women in a society which values the home and family, I just find the growing role of women in the military to be dangerous for society. I mean, what will my daughters think? That they can grow up and become a soldier? They’re ladies! They should…weave, paint, dance, cook. Leave the brutish fighting for the brutes— _men_.” This inspired laughter from many of those around her.

Clarke bit her tongue. She was well versed in the political world, and knew exactly what to expect if she spoke out of line—much like the council woman was doing presently. She had no doubt, judging by the looks on several of the other council members' faces, that the council woman in question would be getting a stern talking to from somebody tomorrow. Besides, Clarke thought, glancing back at Aden, she couldn’t risk reflecting a negative image to Aden, Lexa, or any of the members of the royal family; not when her nation’s livelihood was dependent on the alliance this marriage would bring. “So, Princess Clarke?”

Clarke chose her words carefully. “I’ve had the pleasure of getting to befriend Princess Alexandria over the past few years. She is very much a lady, so there is no need to fret about her becoming a brute in the military. She is kind, compassionate, and a lover of the arts and literature—every good quality a woman may possess can be found in the princess,” Clarke started, happy to see several pleased nods at her words. “I think Princess Alexandria is a visionary who will bring many good things to this nation, as well as my own. I feel confident in her leadership capabilities. She may not be pursuing the most normative career for her sex, but the world can use a good shake-up every now and then. Besides,” she gestured to the king and queen, who were a few tables away chatting with various knights and ladies, “with parents such as Alexandria’s, there is no possible way she can not be smart or savvy enough to be a good politician and a good military leader. I find no reason to fear her involvement in the military, on any personal or societal level.”

The knight nodded approvingly. “My thoughts exactly, Princess,” he said, and with the his opinion, the conversation was over. Clarke exhaled gratefully, glad that she hadn’t lashed out in angry protectiveness. Hearing such gossip about her friend—Clarke’s heart was saddened. And she knew, deep down, the woman’s distaste for Lexa’s career path probably had less to do with the career path itself, and more to do with the rumors of Lexa’s romantic preferences.

Clarke caught Aden’s gaze; he was looking at her almost pleadingly. A grin spread across Clarke’s lips; she knew very well what that look meant -- it was time for her to once again get the two of them in trouble by leaving a party early. “If you all will excuse me momentarily; I would very much like to meet some of Prince Aden's guests." Several of the older adults nodded their approval, and so, without another thought, the princess all but bolted away from the scene.

“—And so, I must tell you, Your Highness, a word of advice from a woman like myself, when your Clarke will come to you with swollen feet and a round belly and horrible aches and pains— _let her whine_! And do not tell her to stop, or she will only grow more angry,”

Clarke laughed awkwardly as she caught the tail end of the conversation, walking next to Aden. Clarke curtseyed politely to the duchess. “Hello, Your Grace,” 

The duchess smiled at the new arrival. “Oh, Your Highness! You look so lovely. I was just telling Prince Aden what to expect when...well, when you will be _expecting_ very soon,” the duchess made a gesture of rounding her stomach with her hands to make a point. The wine in her glass sloshed at the sudden movement.

Clarke suddenly knew why Aden was looking at her, desperate for help. Clarke gave a laugh and then said, “Oh, well, that won’t be for many years yet, so he need not fret now,”

“It’s never too early to be prepared!” The duchess winked at Aden. “I know how you kids work nowadays. In my day, it was very strict; everything saved for marriage! Your generation is much more liberal with your sexuality, so a baby before the wedding could be very possible,” 

Clarke winced as the wine in the duchess’s cup spilled over and onto the floor. Well, that certainly made sense as to why the duchess thought this would be an appropriate conversation to have with the prince and princess. Clarke composed herself, saying, “Perhaps for the common folk, ma’am,” with a tight-lipped smile. Sensing that Aden wanted the conversation over (as she did, herself), she said, “May I steal my beloved away for a dance?”

“Oh, of course!” The duchess waved them off with a grin and another wink, before heading back to the table behind her, inevitably to get more wine.

“Hurry, to the dance floor before she tries to lecture me more about morning sickness and loss of bladder control,” Aden gestured.

“Of course,” Clarke grimaced with a nod. Guests made way for the couple as they approached the dance floor, allowing them to find their place in the middle of the action. Clarke settled her left hand on Aden’s shoulder as he took her right hand in his own. They began to dance, mimicking the steps of those around them. “I apologize for not accompanying you with your guests earlier; your council had me engaged in quite the conversation about your sister.”

“Ah, people are speaking ill of her, are they not?” Aden laughed. “Gossips, all of them. So near to where my parents could hear, nonetheless. I apologize that you had to be a part of that. I’m sure the council will have a talking to, tomorrow.”

“It’s alright; I defended her honor,” Clarke said, a twinkle in her eye.

“Perhaps _you_ should become a knight, then; I’ll call you Sir Clarke from now on,” Aden said. Clarke rolled her eyes at his lame joke.

“Please, Clarke is plenty fine, Prince Aden.”

“So I still must keep my title, but not you?” He asked, twirling Clarke. 

“Well, that’s a matter of your preference, Prince Aden. Your sister refuses to let me call her anything other than Lexa, yet she still insists on using my title with me. What would you like to be called?”

Aden grinned wickedly. “ _Beloved_ ; it had a nice ring to it,” 

Clarke gently whacked his shoulder, drawing a loud laugh from Aden. Several couples turned their heads to observe the prince and princess, smiling and laughing at their antics. “That was just to steal you away. _Beloved_ is a title which must be earned for real,” Clarke said, though she frowned at her own words.

“And I intend to,” Aden said, and his boyish grin flashed across his face. It appeared that despite turning eighteen, he still held onto some of his childish charm. This smile, so carefree and young, was much different than Lexa’s, Clarke mused—hers was a softer, more delicate smile; private, shown only to a few, Clarke figured. A few such as herself.

Clarke nodded, though she would rather speak of other things. Aden sensed this, standing more upright and clearing his throat. The two continued to dance, and a few beats of silence passed between the pair. Finally, Aden spoke once more. “Did you and Lexa have fun while I was away with my cousins?”

“Oh,” Clarke said, caught off guard by the question. “Yes,” she nodded. “Lexa sneaked me into the marketplace and showed me the bookstore,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. 

Aden nodded approvingly, chuckling. “So, the tendency of yours to get me in trouble extends to my sister, as well,” he said. 

“Nobody knows but us,” Clarke said. “And now, you.”

“So, you met Sir Greene and Costia?” Aden asked. At Clarke’s simple nod in response, he asked, “How did you like them?”

“Sir Greene was very polite. Funny, too.” Clarke paused as the music shifted, the song changing. Aden and she adjusted accordingly. “As for Costia...she is lovely beyond words,” she settled on saying, looking away from Aden.

“Ah,” Aden recognized Clarke’s tone. “I detect jealousy.” 

Clarke’s eyes snapped back to Aden’s. “What?”

“You’re jealous of the relationship Costia has with my sister,” Aden said, simply. “It’s understandable.”

Clarke felt her heart drop right into her stomach. So they _were_ …

“I did not know they...had a relationship,” Clarke settled on saying.

“Well, not anymore,” Aden said offhandedly. “But they remain best of friends. That’s why you are jealous, are you not?” He quirked his head to the side, eyes shining with confusion. “You and my sister are becoming dear friends, I have heard. She told me all about your being pen pals. Surely, you feel close to her; are you not jealous of the friendships she has already?”

Clarke was baffled into silence. There was...much Aden said which she needed to process.

“Princess?” Aden asked, looking down at her in concern. “I’m sorry, have I troubled you?”

“I just...didn’t know they were something of an item before,” Clarke said hesitantly.

“Oh.” Aden said, blushing. “I figured, with how close you two are, sharing letters and all...I apologize, I have infringed upon Lexa’s privacy. I thought you knew of her affections.”

“I do!” Clarke said, perhaps too urgently. She cleared her throat, glancing away, feeling rather hot, suddenly, in the middle of all these people. “I do,” she repeated, much more calmly. She did not like the look Aden gave her—seemingly a look of judgment. Realization settled within Clarke; he was thinking the worst of her, based on her reaction. “And fear not, I have no prejudices against any type of love,” she said, but at Aden's look of disbelief, she hastily continued. “I confess, I, myself, am a daughter of Sora,” and as soon as the words left her tongue, both of their eyes went wide; Aden's in disbelief, and Clarke's in fear.

Aden then faltered in his steps, throwing Clarke off-balance as she was spun. She stumbled over her own foot, and Aden pulled her in hastily, stabilizing her. To onlookers, it must’ve appeared two drunken fools were attempting to waltz, rather than merely an embarrassed princess and a very caught off guard prince. Aden caught sight of a few of the palace guards snickering at them off to the side. “Lovely,” he said after a long moment, his voice cracking. 

Clarke hesitated, falling back into rhythm with Aden. “Out of all the responses I have gotten in my life when I have told someone that... _lovely_ has never been one of them, Prince Aden,” 

“I am just surprised,” Aden said after a beat. “I mean, I should never assume...but I just suppose I have not met many who are willing to outright say such to me.”

“Well, if we are to spend our lives together, I may as well be honest with you,” Clarke said with a firm nod, though she felt as though she had made a very poor decision.

Aden remained quiet for a few moments. As he spun Clarke once more, he sighed. “I apologize, Princess. I appear rude. I truly have nothing against such a thing; clearly, I am an avid supporter of my sister, in all aspects of her life. I just did not assume the woman I would marry would perhaps want to...marry another woman instead,” he said sheepishly.

Clarke could understand that. She let go of the breath she didn’t even realize she was holding, and gave Aden’s shoulder a gentle pat. “Fear not; I will marry _you_ ,” Clarke said with what she attempted to make a reassuring smile. “I have always been this way, Prince Aden, and marriage will not change who I am. Nor would marriage change my affections towards men if I did have the freedom to marry a woman,” she emphasized.

Aden nodded, comprehending her words. He knew of the Skaikru's patron goddess, and of her affections. “I won’t share your secret,” he said firmly. 

“Thank you,” Clarke nodded, feeling relieved.

“Thank you for telling me.” Aden said. “I admit, though it is...a shock, I do want you to be honest with me. I appreciate you sharing something so personal.”

“I hardly intended to,” Clarke said, a wince on her face. “But I do wish to be friends with you first and foremost, Prince Aden. So perhaps honesty, even of the accidental sort, will be good for us.”

“Of course it will,” he said. After a moment, he said, “So, if you are telling me the truth about being a daughter of Sora...there _is_ hope for me yet?” Aden grinned as he returned back to his teasing mannerisms.

Clarke smiled at that. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, _beloved_.” 

This time, it was Aden’s turn to gently thwack Clarke’s shoulder.

* * *

Lexa watched the pair dance. Her brow furrowed as she watched Aden nearly fling Clarke out of his arms as though he were manipulating a slingshot and as Clarke stumbled over her own feet. She observed, trying to figure out what the two might be discussing so animatedly while dancing in such a manner. It appeared as though they were both embarrassed—and fear ran through Lexa’s body, hoping desperately that nothing had been said to worry Clarke any further. Moments later, however, Lexa breathed a sigh of relief at Aden’s goofy smile. They continued to dance, but seeing Clarke's joyful laugh as Aden twirled her with cheer did not bring the wave of reassurance Lexa had initially hoped for. 

“Something bothers you.”

Lexa turned her head, seeing her mentor, Anya, at her side. “What makes you say such a thing? This is a night of festivities,” Lexa gestured to the crowd. She turned, reaching for two glasses of wine at the table behind her. She handed one to Anya, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“Of course it is,” Anya nodded, taking the glass in her hands. The two walked a few paces away from the drink table, standing off to the side away from many of the guests. “Which is why I must wonder why you still sulk in the corner.”

“I’m not sulking,” Lexa scoffed, sparing one glance at her mentor; and a mistake it certainly was, judging by the annoying grin on the older woman’s face. “Shut up,” Lexa mumbled, taking a sip of her drink.

“I know you too well,” Anya said. “We’ve been friends since your fifth birthday and you’ve been training under me for nearly three years. When will you accept that I know your feelings perhaps better than you, yourself?”

“And what am I feeling now, Anya?” Lexa asked, eyes never leaving the dancing figures of her brother and soon to be sister-in-law.

“Jealousy,” Anya nodded, simply. Lexa swallowed a curse, reminding herself to remain proper around her antagonistic friend—at least in public. “You’ve become close with the princess; it’s no wonder you would feel jealous that your _friend_ must begin to spend more of her time with her betrothed instead of you.”

“I’m not jealous,” Lexa said, though she tasted the lie as it passed through her lips. “I simply wish for Clarke to be happy, and I doubt that smile out there,” she gestured, “is a genuine one.”

Anya hummed thoughtfully, assessing her younger friend. She shrugged, then, taking a large drink from her glass. “That doesn’t concern you; you aren’t her fiancée. Leave Aden to deal with her emotional worries,”

“She may not be _my_ fiancée,” Lexa said, glancing back at Anya, “but she is still my friend, and so I want her happiness. You want my happiness, do you not?”

“Of course,” Anya said, and Lexa could see she was choosing her words carefully. “But our friendship is different than yours and the princess’s, Lexa.” After many long seconds of silence, Anya continued, her voice low. “Don’t become attached, Lexa. You know where you must stand with Clarke.” 

Lexa gazed up at her, confusion coursing through her, but before she could demand Anya explain what she meant with her words, Anya had already left, heading back to her own table.

She was surprised, then, to see her brother and Clarke approaching her as she turned her gaze back to the dance floor. “Lexa,” Aden called out to her as they arrived. “Please; keep Clarke company? I’m afraid Mother and Father wish for me to visit with some of the council members now. I would hate to drag Clarke into what will inevitably turn into another political discussion,”

Lexa smiled and nodded. “Of course. Good luck,” she nodded towards her parents.

“I’ll need it,” Aden said with a groan, running a hand through his blond hair. After ruffling it up quite a bit, he took a deep breath. “Thank you for the dance, Clarke,” Aden said politely, bowing his head at her before taking his leave.

“First name basis, huh?” Lexa quipped as her younger brother walked away. 

“Yes, and I am much less intimate with him than I am with you. So to think you still call me Princess,” Clarke quipped back, sending a grin Lexa’s way.

“It’s only proper,” Lexa said. 

“Of course,” Clarke nodded solemnly, though her smile reached her eyes. 

“How was the dance?” Lexa asked. “I saw you two make quite the show of stumbling around like newborn deer. Is that dance some new youth trend I am too old to know of?”

“You're hardly three years older than I, Lexa," Clarke said. "I’m afraid I caught your brother off-guard, is all,” Clarke said. Lexa hummed thoughtfully, but didn’t push. Clarke looked the older girl up and down, assessing whether she should share the same information she shared with Aden with his sister. “I promise I do know how to dance properly,” she settled on saying.

“I have no doubt of that, Princess,” Lexa said, placing her hand on the small of Clarke’s back. “Would you like to join me on the balcony? I wish to get some air.”

Clarke nodded, allowing Lexa to lead the way across the ballroom. The night was crisp as they walked out onto the balcony, the mid-March air causing a slight chill. A few other guests lingered on the large stone balcony, gazing up at the stars or out onto the town below the safety of the palace. The two princesses walked to a corner of the balcony, mostly hidden away from the other guests, for a moment of rest. Clarke settled her hands on the cold stone railing, leaning forward slightly as she breathed in the smell of the night. “I grow weary of these affairs,” she whispered onto the wind.

“I share your feelings,” Lexa nodded, coming to stand beside Clarke. Unlike the younger woman, who gazed out upon the city, Lexa turned to face the palace, her back resting against the stone of the railing. She turned her head to watch the princess next to her. 

Clarke’s eyes fluttered closed. Lexa could tell she was focusing on her breathing, Clarke’s chest cresting and falling like waves in the ocean. Glancing down at her hands, which gripped the balcony railing, Lexa saw that Clarke’s knuckles were white, as though she was gripping onto the stone for dear life. Lexa frowned, wondering why the girl beside her seemed so upset, when moments before, she had been smiling. Worry ate at Lexa; worry that she had been correct, that Clarke’s brief happiness on the dance floor had been fake. 

“Are you alright, Princess?”

Clarke let out a breath at that, her hold on the railing loosening. “Yes. A tad overwhelmed, is all.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Lexa said, her voice barely above a whisper as she moved closer. “What happened in there?”

Lexa watched as Clarke’s fingers idly came to her necklace, tracing the raised patterns on her locket as she thought. “I confessed something to Aden earlier; something I fear I should not have shared...”

“Your feelings about marriage?” Lexa asked, sympathetically placing a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “I’m sure he understands.”

“No—not that,” Clarke shook her head. “Aden might have...please, don’t be angry with him,” Clarke looked up into Lexa’s eyes, almost pleadingly. “I feel immense fear at what I am about to confess to you.”

Lexa’s hold on Clarke’s shoulder tightened ever so slightly. “Did he say something offensive to you?” She asked, her voice low. "Did he make you uncomfortable?"

“No! Not at all,” Clarke waved her hands. “Quite the contrary, he is nothing but kind to me. He—he might have accidentally shared a secret of yours with me,” Clarke said, fingers returning to her locket, anxiously rubbing the metal. 

Lexa placed her own fingers atop Clarke’s, ceasing her nervous ministrations. She could feel the fast beat of Clarke’s heart from under the locket. “Princess, you have no reason to have anxiety discussing any matters with me,”

“Aden told me about you and Costia,” Clarke whispered, and she felt Lexa’s hand tighten around her own. “And what I told him, in response…” Silence enveloped the two, the only sound between them the silent echo of Clarke’s heartbeat which they both felt in their fingertips.

“So, my secret is out, then,” Lexa said softly, pulling her hand away from Clarke’s. “I see. I can understand if you do not wish to continue a friendship with someone...such as myself,” she nodded, taking one step back.

Clarke frowned. Challenging Lexa, she took one step forward. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“Is that not what you’re nervous to tell me?” Lexa asked, eyes locked on Clarke’s. “That after Aden told you of my past with Costia, you were offended, and you told Aden you did not wish to be around me anymore, given my…” she trailed off.

“Of course not!” Clarke said, brows furrowing. She huffed indignantly. “To accuse me of being such a person—” she turned to leave, but Lexa caught her wrist.

“Wait! Clarke, please --” 

Butterflies spread through Clarke’s stomach at the sound of her name passing through Lexa’s lips. She froze, before turning to face her friend once more.

“Clarke?” The princess asked, bewildered, eyes widening as she met Lexa’s gaze. “ _Now_ you call me by my name?”

“Princess,” Lexa began, feeling herself growing warmer.

“No,” Clarke said, standing her ground. “You committed once, so do not be a coward. Say my name if you wish to speak with me -- I am my own person beyond my title, just as you.”

Lexa hesitated. Sensing the princess’s growing indignance, she relented. “Clarke, please,” she whispered, pulling the girl closer, the hold on her wrist loose yet unyielding. 

“How dare you accuse me of being one of those people,” Clarke said, her eyes filling with tears. “When I was going to tell you that I am one and the same.”

Lexa felt her own heart speed up, perhaps catching up to the sprint Clarke’s own heart had started minutes before. Understanding, then—a deeper understanding—coursed through Lexa as she finally processed why Clarke was having a more difficult time with her engagement than Lexa thought could be possible. “You are— ”

“My mother wishes for nobody to know. But when Aden told me of your past with Costia, he assumed the worst of me when I was shocked,” Clarke said, now stepping closer of her own volition. “I reassured him I am infatuated with both men and women, so he need not fear about me having any prejudice against you, though I regret telling him such a truth about myself. Perhaps it should have remained a secret, and perhaps my mother was correct.”

“No,” Lexa shook her head, finally releasing Clarke’s wrist. Instead, she let her fingers tangle themselves with Clarke’s. “Living in secrecy is no way for the heart to thrive.”

“My heart will never thrive in a marriage I do not want, so perhaps my head should have made my mouth stay shut,” Clarke laughed, though Lexa detected no humor in her words. “And perhaps I should not have told you.”

“Why?” Lexa asked, guiding Clarke back to rest against the balcony. “You know I would never judge you,” 

Clarke rubbed her thumb across Lexa’s knuckles, and Lexa felt her throat constrict. “It is not my place to feel such feelings when I have a duty I must attend to.”

“You cannot help your feelings, Princess,” Lexa murmured, and at Clarke’s glare, she sighed. “Clarke,”

“And what of your feelings?” Clarke challenged. At Lexa’s confused look, she continued, “You still have feelings for Costia, do you not?”

Lexa remained silent, not providing an answer one way or another. Clarke continued to push.

“Why did it end?”

“I had duties of my own, Princess,” Lexa whispered. 

“Wretched creatures, the two of us,” Clarke sighed, her free hand rising up, hesitantly reaching out. After a moment’s pause, Clarke let her inhibitions go, resting her palm against Lexa’s chest, feeling what she had hoped to find. “You wear it?”

“Of course I do,” Lexa said, and the reverence in her voice chilled Clarke more than the night air. “How could I not, knowing how you treasure mine?”

“What have you placed in it?” Clarke asked, risking propriety as she unbuttoned the top button of Lexa’s dress shirt, reaching in to feel the warm metal against Lexa’s even warmer skin. She felt Lexa swallow beneath her touch.

“Nothing,” she said quietly. After a pause, “Yet.”

“Perhaps you should give Costia another chance,” Clarke said, looking up once more to match Lexa’s gaze.

“We would never work, Princess,” Lexa sighed. “Just as your life calls you to duty through marriage, my duty is through servitude to the country. Leading an army does not allow me the privileges of a family and home.”

The sound of laughter from the other side of the balcony caught Clarke’s attention, and, realizing the position she and Lexa had found themselves in, Clarke let her hand fall away from Lexa’s chest. Sparing one last glance at their hands, Clarke relinquished her hold on Lexa, taking a step back. Clarke brought her hands together, resting them at the front of her skirt. “Well, now you know my secrets, too,” Clarke whispered, chin rising in embarrassed pride ever so slightly. “If you’ll excuse me,”

Lexa stepped to the side, blocking her from leaving. “Please don’t run away from me if we are discussing matters such as these,” she said, her voice as gentle as the silk she laid across Clarke that morning. 

“I’m not running, Lexa,” Clarke said. “But I do not wish to have this conversation any longer. Much has been said tonight that I did not anticipate having to speak about, and I—I wish to go to bed. I’m overwhelmed, and embarrassed, and perhaps ashamed.”

“At least allow me to escort you back to your room?” Lexa asked, gingerly taking Clarke’s hand once more. Clarke sighed, pulling her hand back. 

“Very well.”

And so, after alerting her parents that Clarke was feeling unwell, Lexa walked alongside the princess to the guest quarters, where she rested against Clarke’s door frame as the princess sat on her bed, and Lexa waited to be dismissed.

“Have I made a huge mistake?” Clarke finally asked, and Lexa was glad she had not left, for Clarke looked over at her urgently. “Surely, Aden will want nothing to do with me after this, and my people—”

“Aden isn’t a fickle man,” Lexa interrupted, but did not dare enter Clarke’s room without permission. “He made a promise to you, as you made to him. He won’t abandon you or your country because you told him the truth.”

Clarke worried at the skirt of her dress, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. She glanced between Lexa at the door, back to the fabric of her gown, and Clarke relented, gesturing for Lexa to come in. Lexa did so, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her quietly. Clarke patted the space next to her on the plush mattress, and Lexa hesitated, before taking a seat next to the princess on her bed. 

The space between them was only inches, yet it felt like miles stretched between the two young women as they sat in silence, waiting for the other to speak. 

It was Clarke who broke the silence.

“Is Costia how you got your reputation?”

“My reputation?” Lexa asked, raising an eyebrow. “So you knew prior to tonight?”

“I knew before I even met you,” Clarke confessed. “My mother...she told me the rumors, and begged me not to...well, tell you that I was similar.”

“Why?” Lexa asked. 

“She has this—well, that doesn’t matter. She wants me to keep up appearances, is all.” Clarke settled on saying. “Is Costia how people found out?”

Lexa hummed. “Yes. We were young and less than discreet.”

“How long?” 

“About four months, before my parents put an end to it.”

“And how long did it take to get over her?”

Lexa paused. “A lot longer than four months.”

“And you would not go back to her now, if you had the chance?” 

Lexa’s eyes found Clarke’s once more. “No.”

“Why not? If you love her at all still, even in the slightest, you should try.”

“I can’t be with Costia for the same reason you must marry my brother, Princess. It’s my duty. Being with Costia would put her in too much danger,”

“So, what? You plan on being alone?” Clarke asked, as though she were offended by the very idea. 

“Yes,” Lexa nodded. Seeing Clarke’s angry stare, Lexa asked, “Why does that upset you so?”

“Because you are _lucky_. You do not have to marry as I do; you have the _chance_ to even _try_ for happiness with the one you love, even in secrecy—and you won’t!” Clarke said, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You are so blessed and you are willing to reject that blessing out of your own warped sense of duty?”

“I don’t have a warped sense of duty,” Lexa said indignantly, standing with a huff. “You are not the only princess in the world who must do what she does not wish to do, Clarke. I may have more freedom than you because I don’t have to marry, but do not belittle my own duty to my country and my feelings, as well,” Lexa said, and as she spoke, she paced the length of Clarke’s bed.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke stood, reaching for Lexa’s arm. She held Lexa in place, hands wrapped around her upper arm in a gentle hold. “I don’t mean to belittle you or your feelings. I just...am trying to understand. Even if you would not be permitted to publicly be with her, why would you not still try for a relationship in secret? You are not bound to marry as long as you are in the army, and if there’s a _chance_ for you to find happiness…” Clarke shrugged.

“If it were that easy, I would,” Lexa said, feeling Clarke’s grip on her arm loosen. “When I am Commander, if we go to war—I could not bear if something happened to her. The enemy will do anything to weaken an opponent, and it would not be wise for one like myself to make such a relationship known.”

“But it wouldn't be known,” Clarke said, stepping in closer to Lexa. 

“Why would I want to love in secret?” Lexa asked, looking down at the younger woman.

Clarke reached up, brushing a piece of Lexa’s curly hair behind her ear. “Wouldn’t it be better than to not love at all?”

Lexa clenched her jaw. “And what about you, then?” She asked.

“What about me?” Clarke asked, confused.

“Would you love someone in secret behind my brother’s back?”

“Of course not—” Clarke began, but Lexa cut her off, pressing a finger against her lips.

“I don’t mean to offend or accuse,” Lexa said gently, before letting her fingers trace Clarke’s jawline. She rested them under Clarke’s chin, tilting her head up ever so slightly. Staring into Clarke’s blue gaze, Lexa found the barest hint of unshed tears. “But by your own logic, it would be better for you to love another truly in secret, than to never love truly at all.”

“But I’ll be married, unlike you,” Clarke whispered, though her words fell flat to them both. And looking into Lexa’s eyes, Clarke finally saw what she had been missing, what she had been choosing not to see—the deep sadness the woman before her had been carrying for many years. “You do still love her.”

“I always will. She was my first love.” Lexa said it noncommittally; as though it did not affect her. "But I am no longer in love with her, no."

“How can you be so cold to her when there is still love there?” Lexa felt a warm tear fall against her thumb. “How can you let her long for you, knowing you still love her and she still loves you?”

“Clarke—”

“If I had one to love as you do, yes,” Clarke whispered, the weight of what she was about to say becoming clear to them both. “I do not have a lover in my life, but if I did, I would love behind your brother’s back. I would stop at nothing to try to find happiness in my own life."

Lexa smiled sadly at that. “I know, my dear Guinevere,” she whispered, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss against Clarke’s forehead. “And I don’t blame you one bit. And neither would he,” she said as she rested the palm of her hand against Clarke’s cheek.

Clarke shook her head at that, leaning into the gentle hold Lexa had on her face. “Of course he would; I would break his heart.”

“So you’ll break your own in his stead?” 

Clarke nodded solemnly. “I can’t risk my country for my own selfish gain.”

“That’s why you’re you,” Lexa muttered, swiping her thumb gently across Clarke’s cheek, wiping away the last of her tears.

“And you will do the same?” At Lexa’s confused gaze, Clarke continued. “You will break your own heart by not telling the girl you love of your feelings to protect her?”

“I will not tell the girl I love my feelings for her because our time is done, Clarke,” Lexa said. “Everything must come to an end. And though I still have love for her, it’s not the same. I love her as a dear friend.”

“Your dear friend might still think of you as a lover,”

“Then that is her truth to reconcile with.” Lexa said, and then her hand fell from Clarke’s cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you cry this evening, Clarke. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Clarke said. “I’m sorry to have gotten angry with you for your decisions.”

Lexa placed a hand on Clarke’s arm, forgiving her. She went to leave Clarke’s quarters, making her way to the door. She paused, turning to face the princess once last time. “What will you do if you find your love?”

Clarke tilted her head to the side ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”

Clarke could see Lexa take a breath, steadying herself. “You said you do not have a lover, so you need not worry about being unfaithful to Aden. But what if you meet him? Or her?” She added, hesitating in her words. “You still have years before your marriage.”

Clarke’s forehead creased as she looked at her companion in thought. “I...suppose I would try to remain loyal to Aden.”

Lexa frowned. “Are you being kind in saying that, or are you being truthful?”

At that, Clarke looked away. "We both know I'm being kind."

Lexa nodded once, and then she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this update! Let me know what you think below! Leave a comment here and feel free to message me over at legendofbisexuals on tumblr, as always.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa and Aden have a chat. Clarke makes some new girl friends at home, and her new friends encourage her to own her sexuality. Clarke and Lexa conspire to go on a vacation together before Lexa's induction into the military. Clarke takes a solo expedition of her own body, and surprises herself along the way.

_V._

After another long night of tossing and turning, Lexa found herself walking towards Clarke’s guest quarters, hoping to get the chance to talk more with the younger princess about what had been revealed the night before. It felt wrong leaving things as they had been when she did retire for the night, but she feared that staying would have upset Clarke more than she already was.

A warm cup of tea was held between Lexa’s palms; a peace offering for Clarke, whom Lexa had learned had a particular interest in fruit flavored teas over their last few days together. Perhaps she could cheer the young woman up and offer her apologies for any chance of having made Clarke uncomfortable the night before. While Lexa wasn’t much a fan of sweeter teas, herself, she had snuck into the kitchens early this morning to make sure she could at least prepare a cup for the visiting princess.

As she approached the guest quarters, she was surprised to find that the door to Clarke’s bedroom was slightly ajar. Lexa hesitated to a halt as she approached the door, leaning to knock on the solid wood a few times. With no answer, Lexa spoke. “Princess?” She asked, leaning her head to the side to peer into the room, to see if she was still asleep. “May I come in?” Lexa waited, but again, there was no response. 

Though she knew the princess was most likely still asleep, many bad thoughts rushed to Lexa’s mind. _What if she harmed herself? She was very upset last night, it would be possible. But she’s never shown to be like that before...but usually people who harm themselves don’t tell other people that they do._

She hoped Clarke would not be angry if she were to just push the door open the slightest bit, just to check in on her. She was relieved to not see an injured (or worse) Clarke in the large bed, but was puzzled to see it empty. She glanced to the large window in the guest quarters, noting that it was still very early in the morning; Clarke had never been out of her quarters before this hour, at least not during her stay in Polaris. 

Dread filled Lexa. _Did somebody take her? Was there an emergency? Calm down, perhaps she is just taking a bath, or taking an early walk...but what if she is not?_

Lexa spun on her heels, walking briskly away from the guest quarters and down to the kitchens. Perhaps she had narrowly missed Clarke, and the princess was eating an early meal. Lexa was saddened to only see the chefs in the large room, beginning preparations for the king and queen’s breakfast meal. “Have you seen Princess Clarke?” She asked them, ignoring the questioning looks they gave her. At their head shakes and annoyed grunts of being interrupted, Lexa fled next to the large parlor, wondering if Clarke could simply be spending her time in a common space. She searched and searched for her companion, diligently looking in each common space and hidden nook alike, before making her way out of the castle and onto the palace grounds. She walked the long, winding paths for a short while, coming to a stop before her favorite, secret, guarded place; her rose garden. The guard standing at the entrance of the large iron gate gave Lexa an affirmative nod to go in, and Lexa thanked him, stepping into her special place. She knew it was unlikely to find Clarke here, but she looked, nevertheless. 

The garden was the only place on the palace grounds that was Lexa’s and Lexa’s alone. She had always had an interest in flowers, and her grandmother, before she passed, had a single rose bush which Lexa took diligent care of with her. When the old woman had finally passed away, she left the rose bush to Lexa in her dying breath, and Lexa had vowed to take care of it until the end of her own days. A large garden had been made around that one solitary bush, and between the large iron gates, the sweeping weeping willows lining the entrance to the garden, and the deep blue, long pond lining the perimeter of the garden’s end, it was a very private place. It was a good place for Lexa to come and meditate, to sit among her flowers and observe the swans dance in their pond, to find a moment of respite away from advisors and guards and parents alike, hidden from sight behind the swaying leaves of the weeping willows. 

Lexa walked through her garden slowly, taking in the budding flowers. She was not surprised to find that her companion was not here (how would she know of Lexa’s own private space, if Lexa, herself, had not told her?) and made her way back to the castle.

She ran into her younger brother once she was climbing the stairs back to the residential area of the palace, the tea still in her hands. “Lexa, you’re out and about early this morning. Aren’t you usually in your reading room right now?”

“Yes,” Lexa said, stopping on the step beneath Aden so that he was an inch or so taller than her. “I’ve been looking for Clarke; have you seen her?”

Aden gave her a confused look. “Why would you be looking for her?” He asked, though his tone held no accusation; merely confusion.

Lexa gestured to the tea in her hands. “Clarke...likes fruit tea,” Lexa said. “I’ve brought her a cup each morning.”

“I didn’t know that,” Aden said reflectively, as though the information Lexa provided was life-changing and worth remembering. “I’ll have to buy her the finest fruit teas, then!"

Lexa frowned. “I have already done such,” she said, not understanding why Aden’s cheerful words felt more like a challenge to her.

Aden raised an eyebrow at his older sister, but chose not to comment on her harsh tone. “Ah, well—Princess Clarke departed early this morning. Around first light,” Aden said. “She could not sleep and felt homesick, she told me.”

“You spoke with her?” Lexa asked, feeling her heart clench within her chest.

“Yes, of course,” Aden said, his face still holding the same expression of confusion which had been etched there from the moment of their greeting. 

“Did you...run into her when she was packing, then?” Lexa asked, her voice getting quieter.

Aden shook his head. “No; she came to my quarters and woke me up before her departure. She’s my fiancée, after all, she wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.” He paused. “Though, the guards weren’t happy to see the princess walking the halls alone, and even less thrilled when she burst into my room in a frenzy,” he chuckled. “She did give me quite the scare. I told her to wait a moment for me to get dressed and that I would accompany her to her carriage, but she was gone before I was ready. I figured she had left to say goodbye to you.”

And then, Lexa’s heart dropped right into her stomach. She glanced down at the cup of tea, suddenly feeling just how cold it had become under her fingers. 

“Did she not visit you, Lexa?” Aden asked sympathetically, and Lexa hated how easy it was for her brother to see right through her and into her emotions. He was the only one who could do so, other than perhaps Anya, who Lexa would never admit knew her better than she knew herself. She didn’t like such a weakness, of having someone so close to her, able to decipher her thoughts and feelings with as little as a look.

“No. She didn’t come to me,” Lexa glanced up at her brother sadly, before walking past him, her shoulder lightly bumping into his. She was surprised when Aden reached for her wrist, effectively stopping her in her ascent up the stairs. She glanced down at him, feeling her chest tighten once more at the serious look in his gray eyes.

“Lexa,” he said, his tone clipped. “We need to talk about Clarke."

* * *

_30th March_

_Clarke,_

_I hope you have returned home safely and are settling back into life in Arkadia. Thank you very much for your visit to Polaris for my birthday celebrations; it was wonderful to spend more time with you, even if it was at the cost of suffering another dreadful party. The oils you gifted me are very lovely; I simply cannot wait to paint with them! The Duchess of Polis was pleased to see the gift as well; she is proud that I will be marrying a woman such as yourself, so knowledgeable about the arts and the techniques involved. She requests your presence at my lessons the next time you are in Polaris._

_I must also thank you for your honesty. My sister and I spoke at length about your admissions to us (Lexa had told me that you told her, as well) and I have come to the conclusion that I know very little at all about you, or how to support you in this marriage. Tell me what you need of me, and I will give it to you._

_Rest well. You must be exhausted from the journey. I hope to see you return to Polaris soon._

_Kindly,_

_Aden_

_..._

_30th March_

_Princess Clarke,_

_I hope this letter finds you well and rested back home in Arkadia._

_I have thought about much of what we discussed while you were here. Seeing as we have similar desires, I would be amenable to discussing anything which you might need to talk about, or simply to be a body to lay your burdens upon while you are away. If discussing your own life is too much for you to bear, we do have many books which we can discuss as well. Either way, Princess, I beg of you; do not become a stranger to me. I enjoyed getting to know you so intimately; I only wish that we may grow closer together._

_I spoke of your affections with Aden; I assumed you would be alright with this, as you told him, yourself. It was nothing too personal, and I did not dare to share what you told me in the privacy of your quarters. I simply wanted to ensure that Aden would treat you with respect. He has been nothing but kind and understanding about me, but I am his sister; of course his loyalties lie with me. I needed —more for my own sanity than yours— to be positive my brother would honor and respect you, not in spite of, but because of who you are. I would not allow someone who disrespects you to wed you, even if that person is my own blood. _

_I must admit, I am saddened by your absence in the castle. I understand your reasons for leaving without saying goodbye; I acknowledge you needed space and time alone after revealing the depths of your heart to me. But I would be lying if I said that your leaving without a tender goodbye did not leave my heart aching. I understand if you feel differently towards our friendship now that your truth is out in the open, as is mine, but I warn you; I will not allow us to drift apart. I will fight for your affection all the days of my life —you have already found a place within my heart, my dear friend. I have never had a friend quite like you, nor someone who knows me so well in such a little amount of time… _

_...My induction as the Commander of the Imperial Trikru Army is this upcoming 22nd of July; the day after my birthday. I hope to see you there as my honored guest. I am finishing intense training with Anya -- I am writing this in between spars, in fact, and she is giving me a look I cannot discern (disapproval?) for taking a break to write to you -- and I would very much like to see my efforts paid off with your beautiful presence._

_Thank you for your time during your stay in my home; I find my reading room is much duller without your glowing presence. I now know how you must have felt when I departed from Arkadia. Awaiting your return to Polaris is like waiting for the thunder after lightning strikes; it is inevitable that it will happen, yet I sit in anxiousness and excitement for the moment, nonetheless._

_Be well._

_Yours truly,_

_Lexa_

Clarke was surprised to find a handmaiden-in-training still waiting in her quarters as the princess finished reading her letters. The young brunette had been the one to fetch the letters for Clarke as the older handmaidens unpacked the princess’s luggage and helped her settle back into her home. Clarke wasn’t sure what the younger girl’s name was—a fact she was ashamed to admit to herself—but she did at least recognize that the young girl was the daughter of Queen Abigail’s head handmaiden, Aurora. 

“Is there something wrong?” Clarke asked politely, setting the parchment paper aside. Though a bit of annoyance swam in her stomach at the prospect of not being left alone to write a reply to her friend, the girl before the princess looked almost scared, and for that, Clarke felt some sympathy. She knew how hard it was for young handmaidens to adjust to living among royalty; she had watched this happen over the course of her nearly eighteen years of life, any time a new handmaiden had been brought into the castle. At the girl’s hesitation, Clarke continued to speak. “What’s your name again? I’m sorry to have forgotten it already.”

“Octavia,” the girl said, bowing her head slightly towards the princess. “My name is Octavia Blake, your highness,”

Clarke waved her hand airily. “Please, Miss Blake, none of that in here; I’m simply a girl in my bedroom, I have no need for formalities. May I assist you with something, Miss Blake?” Octavia assessed the princess sitting in her reading corner, and Clarke could tell the young handmaiden was trying to figure out if she should proceed with whatever she was to say. Clarke could see the gears turning in the girl’s mind, so she sighed, gesturing to the seat across from her. “Please; sit with me,”

Octavia nodded, stepping across the room and settling in the love seat opposite of the princess. “Please, ma’am; you can call me Octavia.”

Clarke gave her a smile at that. “How old are you, Octavia?” 

“Fifteen. My birthday is in a fortnight though, so I’m finishing my training now so I can join as one of your handmaidens after my sixteenth birthday.” Octavia said, her voice dropping as she awkwardly settled her hands on top of her knees. 

“I take it this is not a career path which particularly excites you,” Clarke said with a smile, showing she felt no offense. At Octavia’s shy grin, Clarke chuckled. “What would you rather do with your life, Octavia?”

“I’ve always wished to be a knight in your father’s court,” she said wistfully. Octavia glanced away for a moment, but Clarke didn’t miss the glimmer in her eye. “I only wish Arkadia did not have rules preventing women, like myself, from pursuing such dreams.”

Clarke instantly thought of Lexa, and how different the culture surrounding women was in Polaris. The Trikru people were much more accepting of women holding more political and social roles than her own society was (though they did still have their reservations and vocally conservative groups). This was something Clarke hoped would change in Arkadia with the impending alliance between the two nations. “I agree with you, Octavia; I feel it is time that women may hold such posts if they so desire.”

“That’s why I stuck around, actually,” Octavia said, her cheeks dusting pink as she looked back at Clarke bashfully. “I have heard the stories about your friend, Princess Alexandria, and I was wondering…” she trailed off. “Though I beg of you; please don’t let my mother know I came to you with this request.” Clarke nodded for the young girl to continue. Octavia took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I know it is brash of me to request this of you before I am even an official handmaiden of yours, but I would be honored if, when you move permanently to live with your betrothed, you take me with you as a handmaiden and allow me to train with the Imperial Trikru Army. I would still remain your handmaiden as I trained if you wished it, but I do not wish to spend my life in this manner, and I know I would be an impertinent and unruly handmaiden, causing you more trouble than good. Forgive me for my speaking out of turn.”

Clarke couldn’t hold the laugh which bubbled up inside of her as she watched the young teenager sputtered her words out. The young girl was nervous—and for good reason. She was completely out of line requesting such a thing from the woman she was sworn to serve; but looking into her scared yet hopeful eyes, Clarke found it very hard to care much about propriety at all. At least the girl was being _genuine_ with Clarke, something she wasn’t used to aside from her new friends in Polaris. Bringing a hand to her mouth to stifle the noises, Clarke offered Octavia an apology. “Please, Octavia,” she said after settling down, “don’t fear me so. I don’t know how the handmaidens have spoken about me to you, but I’m not quick to anger with those who help me. You’re...I would be happy to do so, Octavia.”

Octavia’s eyes widened. “Really?” At Clarke’s nod, she continued. “Why?”

Clarke hesitated, unsure of how much she wanted to share with this new companion. “Octavia, do you know why I am to marry Prince Aden?”

Octavia nodded. “Yes; Arkadia needs an alliance with a stronger nation for financial prosperity.”

Clarke hummed. “Do you think I had any say in my engagement, Octavia?” Clarke asked, not realizing her fingers came up to her locket and began their usual habit of running across the raised metal. 

“No, Princess. I don’t think you did,” Octavia said, her voice carrying a question she dared not to ask. 

Clarke nodded once, firmly. “Then, there you have it. I am marrying Aden for the benefit of my people; it is not a choice of mine to make. Though I am not free to make my own decisions about my life, I would very much like to help other girls like you be able to make the kinds of choices and decisions I wish I could. Lex—Alexandria will be the Commander soon enough, and I’m sure she would be happy to have a recruit such as yourself, eager to learn and defend.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Octavia said, bowing her head reverentially once more. “I am _so_ grateful—” she began, before a sharp knock at Clarke’s door gathered their attention.

A slightly older handmaiden, one Clarke did recognize, halted at the entrance to Clarke’s room. “My apologies, Princess. May I enter?” At Clarke’s nod, the dark haired woman briskly walked over to Octavia. “What are you doing here? Genevieve has been looking for you. You know we have no business bothering the Princess.”

“Please, Miss Reyes,” Clarke said, thankful she remembered the older girl’s name. “It is no bother to me. “Miss Blake simply had a question for me; nothing serious. I assure you, her presence was not unwelcome.”

The handmaiden—Raven, Clarke remembered her first name—nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, ma’am,” she said, before turning her gaze back to Octavia. “Let’s go, Octavia. We have to report back to Genevieve now.”

As Octavia stood, Clarke felt a lurch in her heart; though the women before her were hardly friends of hers, it hurt to see them go. She was dreadfully lonely in this castle, no friends or siblings of her own around to spend their days together. Even if it was simply five minutes of speaking with a bumbling, nervous, and (self-recognized) impertinent teenager, it was time better spent than being left alone. As the handmaidens reached Clarke’s door, she called for them to halt. Standing, Clarke smoothed out the skirt of her dress. “I have a request,”

Raven stood a little more upright, nervously watching the princess. “What can we assist you with?”

“I wish to go to the marketplace soon. My father and mother will not allow me to go alone; a guard must always accompany me. But I fear I grow weary of being alone while he trails behind simply keeping a watchful eye, and I need the advice of a fellow woman when it comes to my purchases. Will you tell Genevieve that the next time I am to go to the market, you two are to accompany me and assist me there?”

Raven’s eyebrows furrowed. Clarke knew it was an unusual request; this was not exactly one of the duties of a handmaiden. After a long moment, Raven bowed her head once more. “Of course, ma’am,” and then they were gone.

Clarke smiled softly to herself as she watched the two girls leave. Embracing the peaceful air the silence left behind, Clarke made her way back to her reading corner, reaching for a blank piece of paper and a quill pen.

_7th April_

_Prince Aden,_

_I am happy to hear that you have enjoyed your oils. I will gladly accompany you to a lesson with the duchess whenever I am free and back in your beautiful country. I do not know when that will be, so extend my apologies to the duchess for my inability to come soon. I hope you craft many beautiful paintings with the oils; I would love to see what you create with my gift. We can discuss more about my life and what I hope for in person, if that is amenable to you._

_I wish you the best._

_Sincerely,_

_Clarke._

_..._

_7th April_

_My dearest Lexa,_

_I am sorry that my leaving in such a manner has distressed you. It was not intentional. I do wish, upon reflection, that I had left you under better circumstances, with friendlier conversation between us. I must admit I was embarrassed and ashamed to face you after my confession; I feared you would think little of me for admitting what I have said. I am not the loving, faithful bride your brother deserves; I am morally corrupt, tempted by the evil spirits, and I feel shame in admitting that I will willingly fall into their traps for a moment of tenderness or happiness, if given the chance. I feel comfortable telling only you this, but even then, I fear that as time goes on, you will grow to see me for being an ugly creature. I thank you for listening to me as I bared my soul for you to see, and I thank you even more for not judging the stains which have compromised it._

_I will happily join you for your induction, but only if you do one favor for me —come to Arkadia and fetch me, yourself, for another week of your companionship, whenever you are able. I wish to spend time with you away from castle walls and rules, and I would very much enjoy a vacation with my best friend; a celebration before your new chapter. I already miss your presence and would like any excuse to spend more time with you. I certainly do have many things I wish to share with you now that our hearts have opened for one another, but more than anything else, I miss the calmness I feel when I am in your presence, or when I feel your gentle touch on my shoulder. I am lonely here, so very alone, and I miss our camaraderie. _

_Sending my love and apologies your way,_

_Clarke._

* * *

A few weeks later, one of Clarke’s wishes was granted. Her father arranged for a young guard named Nathan Miller to accompany her to the marketplace with her handmaidens Raven and Octavia in tow. 

Miller, as the guards usually did, kept a safe distance from the princess as she walked, close enough to defend her from any attacks, yet far enough away to give her privacy. Octavia and Raven had begun the journey likewise, trailing behind, but Clarke urged them to walk on either side of her, asking for their opinions on various goods at the different market stands. The girls hesitated to give any opinions to the princess—after all, voicing their own opinions to the royalty they served was highly discouraged within the castle walls—but Clarke assured them that she had brought them along for this specific reason, and requested assistance in knowing what would flatter her, or what she should pass on. 

Clarke held up a golden necklace, and she told her handmaidens about how she had gifted a similar golden locket to the princess of Polaris, and how it brought her much joy as they matched. After perusing various other stands, Clarke asked their opinion on a set of long, silken hair bands meant for being woven into braids, recalling to the women assisting her how she admired Princess Alexandria’s many braids, and how she would have to get used to the Trikru custom of hair braiding before her impending wedding. After purchasing several yards of a lovely forest green fabric (a color Clarke had explained to Raven and Octavia reminded her of Lexa’s deep green eyes) for her dressmaker to fashion into a dress, Clarke asked Raven and Octavia how they would feel about stopping to eat lunch with her at a nearby tavern.

“Is that safe, your highness?” Raven asked worriedly, glancing around. “It hardly seems safe for you to be on these streets, let alone in a tavern with drunken sailors and other brutes.”

Mutely, Miller shook his head behind Raven, also discouraging the princess. Clarke rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine; I guess I am not to have fun in my life,” she sighed dramatically, handing the fabric to Octavia. “You two are much more cautious with me than Lexa and Aden. Those two have little regard for safety out in the streets, I find. Quite barbaric, but also exciting! Such free spirits. Will you carry this for me? We may not stop for lunch, but I do need my hands for this place,” Clarke gestured to the small bookstore they had stopped in front of. 

“Are you looking for anything specific, Princess Clarke?” Octavia asked curiously.

A soft smile spread across Clarke’s lips. “Princess Alexandria is requesting I read a new book in the fantasy genre; we love to discuss literature together in our letters.” 

Raven and Octavia gave each other a knowing look at Clarke’s fifth mention of the Trikru girl as they entered the small bookstore. The owner immediately bowed in reverence to Clarke, insisting that the princess take as many books as she wished for free and that it was his duty to serve her, and Clarke gave the old man a kind smile, insisting that she would pay, and only asking of him that he point the way to the new fantasy section of the store. Miller stood a ways back, more so guarding the door than hovering over Clarke, for which the princess was grateful for.

As Clarke let her fingers run over the spines of the growing collection of fantasy works, Raven felt emboldened. “Princess Clarke?”

Clarke hummed, but did not look over. “Yes, Miss Reyes?”

“You speak much of your friend Princess Alexandria,” she said matter-of-factly, but Clarke knew there was an underlying question. At this, she did turn her head to assess the women next to her. 

“I do,” Clarke said. “She is, perhaps, my best friend these days.”

“Do you—never mind,” Raven shook her head. “I shouldn’t ask you personal questions, Princess Clarke. It is not my place.”

Clarke paused, gazing back at the bookshelf. The smile fell off her face as she traced the lettering on one of the book’s spines. She had been having such fun with Raven and Octavia that it had been easy to forget the fact that they were supposed to be no closer than a princess and her servants. Though she had two companions near her, Clarke felt rather alone; she had grown used to Lexa’s presence, and not having a woman friend to talk intimately with was leaving her feeling rather alone nowadays; even Lexa’s letters were not enough, becoming fewer and farther between as the end of her training approached. She knew it was silly to have hoped for companionship from her handmaidens, but hearing Raven remind her out loud of their positions was more hurtful than she had anticipated.

“I would not mind, Miss Reyes. Or...may I call you Raven?” Clarke looked back over at Raven, looking into her deep brown eyes. She was surprised to see an embarrassed blush blooming on the slightly older woman’s cheeks.

“I—that wouldn’t be appropriate,” Raven said. At Clake’s lasting gaze, Raven sighed. “Alright, Princess. If you would like.”

“Raven,” Clarke said, and then turned to look at their other companion, “Octavia.” They both nodded at her. “I must admit, I asked you both to accompany me today not just as my handmaidens, but as...well, as my friends.” Octavia and Raven both stared at the princess in shock, neither making the move to speak first. At their silence, Clarke smiled once more. “I know it is a strange request. But my only dear friend from childhood, Sir Wells, is almost now a knight; I have not spent a day with him in years, perhaps since we were young teenagers, before his training began. I have no friends within the castle now, no siblings to spend my time with; my only dear friend Lexa is far away, and I miss her tremendously, yet she is far too busy to take time out of her schedule to plan a visit even for a day or two, though I have requested such from her. Her mentor will not allow it,” she said with a sad sigh.

“What about Prince Aden?” Octavia asked. 

Clarke looked at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the prince is to be your husband, and he is not training like Princess Alexandria is. I’m sure if you asked, he would be here in a heartbeat to spend time with you, Princess.” Octavia said.

Clarke frowned. “Why would I want that? It is not he who I miss.”

Octavia and Raven glanced at each other once more, before Raven stepped in. “Well, shouldn’t you be spending time with the prince, anyway? And we’ve all heard in the castle how much he loves you. Perhaps you need a romantic weekend with him, and then you’ll be content in companionship until the next time you see your friends Sir Wells and Princess Alexandria.”

Clarke tore her eyes away from the girls, looking once more at the bookshelves. She found the short novel she had sought, double checking that it was indeed the one which Lexa insisted be the next on their list to discuss via letters. Taking the book in her hands, Clarke spoke. “I have no desire to spend a romantic weekend with Prince Aden, Raven.” She left it at that, watching for any reaction from the handmaiden. When none came, Clarke nodded. “So, will you two accept my offer?”

“What is your offer, exactly?” Octavia asked.

“Why, for you two to become my friends, of course.”

“It’s hardly appropriate,” Raven began.

“I do many things which are hardly appropriate, Raven,” Clarke said with an amused smile, remembering many antics with the prince and princess. “Such as sneaking out of parties and political meetings early with Aden, or going into the city in disguise with Lexa, or reading provocative novels with and writing deeply intimate letters to—” she paused, feeling her face heat up, ignoring the scandalized looks the girls gave her. “My point is, becoming friendly with my handmaidens will be the least of my potential scandals, should the court learn about my many frivolous infractions.” She glanced between the two girls hopefully. “But it would mean a great deal to me to have real friends here in Arkadia, and, eventually, dear friends I can trust when I live in Polaris. I am tired of feeling alone and like a foreigner in my own home.”

“Genevieve…”

“Will not dare be upset if she knows that I am the one who wishes for your companionship,” Clarke interrupted, effectively cutting Raven off. “Now, are you girls ready to return home?”

* * *

_15th May_

_Dear Princess Clarke,_

_I must warn you. My mother is planning a surprise birthday party for you here in Polaris for when October rolls around. I have a feeling you dislike surprises, so I have taken it upon myself to tell you of such events so that you know what you’re getting into. I’m sorry if you do like surprises, and I have just ruined a fun night for you! But she is forcing me to act as co-party planner, and I am not very thrilled about that prospect. No offense to you, of course —I just do not know the first thing about planning a function, and I find the meetings tiresome and boring. I already have so much on my plate these days, you would think Adelaide would understand I don’t have time to play party planner when she is ultimately making all the decisions anyway (though I know you better, she will not listen to what I recommend, so what is my point in being there?). _

_But I digress._

_I apologize that my letters have become far less frequent. Anya is kicking my ass; excuse my Trigedasleng. I hardly have time to eat and breathe between her training sessions these days. She also is encouraging me to jump back into the dating scene, which is highly unusual for her, who never before cared about such matters in my life. She’s given me the names of several women she thinks would be a good match for me, but I have refused each one. She will not tell me why she wants me to find a partner (or even a casual lover), but she tells me she wishes for this for me for my own good. How would taking a partner be for my own good? I am far too busy at this stage in my life for romance, and I am quite content spending my days alongside you, my best friend, and Aden, and Anya, who is like a sister to me. An annoying, overbearing sister. I cannot bring myself to speak so deeply of my feelings towards courtship as I have already done with you —though I love Anya, we do not speak much of our deep feelings with one another, as you and I do. _

_I have managed to convince Anya to let me take that week away from Polaris to visit you, but with a condition —she will accompany us and train with me each day, so I do not get a break from my training, I fear. My family owns a small cottage in the countryside where we can travel. Aden is insisting on coming, as well...I apologize, Princess. I know you wished for us to spend time alone together, but as Anya is insisting I train, Aden is likewise insisting that he is there to keep you company while I am busy. A few of my guards will travel with us to the cottage and protect us. Feel free to bring your handmaidens you have told me about, Octavia and Raven, as well. If this will be a trip with more than just you and I, it may as well be one filled with all those we love. I hope your parents will be more approving of this small vacation, now, knowing your betrothed will be there with you. _

_By the time you receive this letter, I should be a week and a half or so away from coming to get you for this journey. I shall arrive at the end of the month, on 31st May, and we will go to the cottage immediately from your residence._

_I am looking forward to having many literary discussions with you in person once more._

_No —I am simply looking forward to seeing you in person once more. My eyes are sore from not having beheld a sight so beautiful as you in many weeks. _

_Yours truly,_

_Lexa._

Clarke reread the letter for perhaps the tenth time as Raven and Octavia began packing her luggage, a small twinge of heat on her cheeks at Lexa’s parting words. Tomorrow morning, Lexa, Anya, and Aden would arrive with their guards to accompany Clarke and her handmaidens to the royal Trikru family’s countryside cottage, where they would spend a week together away from the political world for a moment of respite and companionship.

The past month and a half had seen a steady growth in friendship between the three girls. Octavia’s sixteenth birthday had passed, and Clarke had happily thrown her a small celebration, much to the surprise of those who worked in the castle. Clarke ignored the gossip she heard about how Prince Aden must have made her a more kind and outgoing person from her visits; she knew the person in question who had done so to her was not the prince, but she rather liked keeping her deep feelings and respect for Lexa to herself. It felt more sacred. Clarke had insisted that her handmaidens spend their evenings with her, and gave nobody a real reason for why they must do so—but each evening was spent with the girls slowly learning about one another, the tenuous friendship between them strengthening bit by bit.

A few weeks ago, Octavia had confessed to a brief, intimate encounter she had with a Trikru warrior who had traveled to Arkadia to visit an old friend during his off time. Octavia had ran into him in the marketplace on her own day off, and the two had spent the rest of the day (and night) together. His name was Lincoln, and Octavia was rather smitten; she bashfully shared the intimacies of their night together, leaving many questions swimming through Clarke’s head—questions she didn’t go through with asking, despite wanting to. 

Likewise, Raven had shared some of her own romantic stories, particularly about her recent ex-partner, a woodworker’s apprentice named Finn, whom Raven had caught cheating on her with the woodworker’s daughter. Raven admitted she was still nursing that heartbreak, as the two had grown up as neighbors and the best of friends; losing Finn was not just the loss of a lover, but of her closest companion. 

Clarke learned many things about her newfound friends; Octavia was not the shy, timid girl she had presented herself as when first meeting Clarke. Octavia was bold; she had been the one to make a move on the warrior, Lincoln, after all, and had been the one to initiate their less than innocent activities together. Octavia was also a bit brash, questioning Clarke easily and keeping her on her toes as they shared, debated, and discussed many aspects of their lives. 

Raven was likewise brash, but not in such a confrontational way; more in her snide, sarcastic comments and witty humor. Clarke was surprised to find that Raven had a habit of telling dirty jokes, and had been as flushed and red as a cherry upon hearing Raven detail both raunchy jokes as well as aspects of her own dating and sexual life. 

Both girls were assertive and proud of themselves in ways which Clarke had not seen before in women her age, except for in Lexa—but then, their kind of assertiveness was somehow different than Lexa’s. Octavia and Raven both knew what they wanted to do with their lives, and Clarke was happy for them. Clarke was proud that Octavia knew she wanted to be a knight and was working towards such despite the status quo, and was similarly proud when Raven confessed that she dreamed of leaving her job as a handmaiden to study under the town’s blacksmith and open a smithery of her own some day—but that pride also carried a tiny bit of resentment, of jealousy, that they had such freedom to pursue their desires and goals.

It had caught Clarke off-guard a few nights ago when Raven and Octavia were once more discussing their intimate lives, when Raven had the nerve to question Clarke about her own. Up until this point, Clarke had been a happy bystander—content to listen and laugh along with the women she now considered friends, just happy to be in the presence of camaraderie again, but she wasn’t quite comfortable sharing much of her own life. After all, she had been brought up to not speak unless spoken to, and to not share the intimacies of her life so freely. The only person who had weaseled their way behind her closed barriers was Lexa. At least, it was only Lexa until Raven and Octavia begged her to share, and promised not to tell anyone of what she would say. They were still her handmaidens, after all, they reminded her—and part of the job meant discretion with whatever royal or personal information they might stumble across.

“So, who was your first kiss? Or have you ever kissed anyone? Or done...more?” Had been the way Raven phrased it.

“I have kissed someone before,” Clarke confessed, her cheeks getting warmer as she spoke. “My first kiss was with Sir Wells when we were children. We said we were going to get married. It was nothing more than a friendly peck as we played pretend; my parents, and his, were there, watching, and they all laughed and said how cute it was.”

“But have you kissed anyone for real?” Octavia pried, grinning as she saw Clarke shift in her seat. She was caught.

“Yes,” Clarke nodded, hesitating. She knew better than to tell them, but... “I kissed a girl when I was thirteen.”

Octavia and Raven’s eyes widened at that. “Are you…” Octavia trailed off, making a vague gesture. Clarke stumbled over her words, glancing between the two girls.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Raven said after a minute. “I am.”

Clarke looked up at her. “You are...what, exactly?”

“Attracted to women. And men. But women, too,” Raven said. “So I understand.”

Clarke looked expectantly at Octavia, who held her hands up in surrender. “Sorry, not me. I like men. Big, muscley, strong, tattooed men…” she laughed, and it was clear to all three girls just who the youngest was thinking about.

“So, tell us about her?” Raven asked.

Clarke nodded. “She was the daughter of one of my dad’s knights. She spent a lot of time with me; we were friends for a while, and I went to her property with my parents a few times. Then, one day, when we were taking a walk through her estate, she stopped and kissed me under an oak tree and…” Clarke smiled, remembering it fondly. “It was a very good kiss. She was beautiful. But, our parents eventually caught up, and we were chastised. Her father got sent away to become a guard in the country, taking his family with him. It was my mother’s punishment for me.” She looked down at her hands sadly. “I haven’t kissed anyone since.”

“Not even the prince?” Octavia asked curiously. 

Clarke shook her head. “No; we’ve barely hugged one another,” she admitted, and looking at their shocked faces, felt very small and unsure. “Why—is that not normal?”

“Maybe for you royal folks,” Raven said, trying to assuage Clarke’s insecurity. “But us commoners tend to get...well, down and dirty pretty soon.”

Clarke laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Am I supposed to be kissing him? I hardly know him, honestly. He’s kind enough, but I have no desire to do so…”

“Well, obviously not, when you’re daydreaming about having sex with his sister,” Raven snickered, and Octavia laughed along with her.

Clarke felt her stomach twist in knots. “Wh-what?” She stammered, feeling her palms go sweaty as they grabbed at the metal around her neck.

“It’s always _Lexa this_ , and _Lexa that_ , and _Oh, Lexa would love this!_ or, _would Lexa like this dress on me_?” Octavia teased, joining in. “Now that we know you like women, it’s all clear.”

“I like men too!” Clarke defended herself, wondering why it felt like insects were crawling through her stomach and up to her throat, creeping and scratching at her insides.

“Relax, Princess, we’re teasing you,” Raven rolled her eyes. “We know Lexa is just a close friend.” Clarke nodded at that harshly. “A _very_ close friend,” Raven said, a little more seriously. “And that’s all she’ll be, right?”

“I—of course,” Clarke swallowed thickly.

“We’ve kind of had an inkling how...close you two are for a while now,” Raven said. “And we don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“We’re _just_ friends,” Clarke said sternly, stubbornness lacing her words. 

The looks on Raven and Octavia’s faces told her that they didn’t believe her. Some small, very small (almost tiny, if Clarke was lying to herself), part of Clarke agreed with them.

Raven held her hands up in surrender.

“Well,” she continued, changing the conversation. “I’m assuming you haven’t had sex with anyone then, Princess?”

Clarke now felt less like bugs were fluttering around inside of her, and more like she was lost at sea, drowning in an ocean of shame. “No,” she looked away from the girls again. “I can’t say I have.” After a moment, she added, “I know about it, of course, but I don’t quite know how it feels. What...what’s it like?”

“Are you scared for it to happen?” Octavia asked, seeing how tense Clarke had gotten at the question. “Because I promise, it’s not as bad as the old ladies tell us it will be. It hurts a little, but only if you’re really nervous the first time.”

“I am a little unsettled at the prospect of...intimacy with Aden,” Clarke admitted. “Though, mostly because I know it will be a rather clinical process. There won’t be much romance there; it will be scheduled to produce an heir,” she sighed at her words, already mourning the loss of a loving intimate life.

“That certainly sounds like shit,” Raven nodded at Clarke’s words, doing her best, Clarke realized, to empathize with her. “But, if the prince is as kind and sweet and gentle as you’ve told us, I’m sure he’ll find a way to make it romantic for you.”

“Hmm, hopefully he’s a generous lover,” Octavia sighed wistfully, “like Lincoln.”

“Yes, you don’t want someone selfish,” Raven nodded. “But Prince Aden doesn’t sound like that kind of man.”

“What do you mean by generous and selfish?” Clarke asked, feeling embarrassment creep up within her. She had never discussed the _feelings_ of sex with another girl before, the closest she had gotten was with the awkward conversation she and Lexa had a few weeks prior. Clarke knew the semantics of sex, of course, and was not naïve—but judging by the intense look in Octavia’s gaze, she had seen some _good_ sex, and Clarke was curious as to what Octavia experienced and how it was “generous,” exactly. She was ashamed to feel a curious burning pooling in her stomach as her new friend began to explain.

“Well, Lincoln…” Octavia began, feeling herself flush. “He didn’t just go for sex right away. He took care of me beforehand. He spent so long kissing me and touching me gently with his hands, and kissing my neck and body. And just when I thought it was going to happen, he just…” she brought a hand up to her face in slight embarrassment. “He used his _mouth_ , which I didn’t think men particularly liked to do. And only after I had already been satisfied did he even _think_ about doing anything which would please him.”

“His mouth?” Clarke asked curiously. In all of her readings, both clinical and romantic, sex between a man and a woman hardly involved such affairs, though she knew the semantics of sex with a woman would require more creativity.

Octavia nodded. “He’s the only man I’ve ever been with who has done so, and it was so different and—it feels much better than simply being railed into over and over,” she laughed, and Raven joined in, nodding in agreement.

Raven’s eyes were almost dreamily unfocused as Octavia spoke, clearly reminiscing, herself. “Men like that are so much better than brutes who simply mount a girl and ride her like a horse until they’re satisfied.”

“That’s a bit of a crude image,” Clarke cringed, though she couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at Raven’s dirty metaphor.

“Well, it’s true,” Raven said. “Even if crude. _Men_ are the true crude creatures; more often than not, they care only about themselves.” After seeing Clarke look crestfallen, Raven placed a reassuring hand on Clarke’s back. “But the prince sounds very generous, Princess Clarke. If he’s already taken the time to show you that he cares about you and prioritizes your feelings, as you’ve told us, then I know he’ll be a generous lover, too. At the very least, a considerate one.”

Octavia nodded along, also placing a comforting hand on Clarke’s back. “It’s normal to be scared. But maybe you should try to...practice with yourself beforehand, imagine different scenarios, so you know what to possibly expect.”

“Practice with myself?” Clarke asked, as though the idea were barbaric. She brought a hand to her chest, subconsciously trying to calm herself with the familiar feeling of her silver locket. “I...can’t say I have much of a desire to do that.”

“Really?” Raven asked, surprised. She let out a low whistle. “That explains why you’re so...you,” she muttered, and ignored the glare Clarke sent her way.

“It’s not appropriate,” she blushed. “I don’t have a lover, so I don’t have anyone to think of. Thinking of someone I know but am not intimate would be wrong, wouldn’t it? And I imagine it would be quite...unfulfilling to do such a thing and _not_ think of someone.”

“Thinking without acting doesn’t hurt anyone. And you _do_ have someone to think about, Princess Clarke,” Octavia reminded her. “You’re about to be a wife, after all.”

Clarke’s cheeks went from a subtle pink to a deep crimson at the suggestion. “I...Aden hasn’t even kissed me yet, like I’ve said,” Clarke said. “To think of him in a provocative way—"

“Might make you actually have some feelings for him,” Octavia interrupted. At Clarke’s nearly offended gaze, she continued. “Well, Princess, you’ve made it clear to us that you don’t have much of an attraction towards the prince. Maybe some feelings will come about if you think of him in a sexual way. You’re entitled to it; he’s your fiancé, after all. I’m sure he’s thought of you in such ways…”

Clarke nearly choked on her own spit at the mere suggestion. “You think so?”

Raven nodded. “You’re beautiful, Princess. Any man would look at you and think of you provocatively. And the fact that you’re engaged to him,” Raven shrugged. “He’s a teenage boy, after all. That’s all teenage boys think about. And he has a beautiful fiancée with a lovely body—yes, Princess, I’ve seen it when we dress you, so don’t try to lie—so of course he’d think of being intimate with you.”

“I don’t think it would hurt for you to try, Princess,” Octavia said.

“I have tried before, I just...nothing comes out of it,” Clarke admitted. “As I said, I have had no particular person to think of, and vague ideas leave little satisfaction.”

“Well, now you have Prince Aden to think of, so give it a try sometime,” Octavia encouraged her with a smile. 

A few days had passed and Clarke had not yet taken the girls up on their suggestion, nor had they asked if she had. Now, as they were all together in her room, a comfortable silence rested between them after they had discussed plans for the morning and the handmaidens had finished packing Clarke’s belongings for the trip.

Clarke tucked Lexa’s letter back in the envelope, standing from her reading corner and walking over to a chest of drawers. She pulled out a small chest with a lock, previously used for jewelry—which had since turned into a collection of Lexa’s letters—and set the envelope in with the many others, locking it.

“We’re finished, Princess Clarke,” Raven said, catching her attention as she put the box away.

Clarke nodded gratefully. “Thank you,” she said. She swayed on her feet. Normally she would invite the girls to stay for awhile and chat, but she was tired and anxious for the upcoming morning. “You two should get some rest; we’ll be up early in the morning.”

Octavia and Raven both nodded, bidding her a goodnight. Clarke walked to the bedroom door with them, and once they had gone, shut the door quietly. She hesitated for a moment, before reaching for the lock and ensuring the door was firmly shut and unable to be opened.

She felt nervous as she stepped closer to her bed, a mixture of shame and anticipation for what she was about to do. Her friends were right; she needed to start figuring out a way of being attracted to, or at least somewhat interested in, her betrothed. It would make her life and marriage much easier if there was some spark, even if that spark was not love. Clarke wasn’t a child; she knew there could be attraction without love, and vice versa, too. Perhaps, if she were to even be attracted…

She pulled her nightgown off before climbing into bed, letting it fall to the cold floor. She had forgone her usual silk slip which she wore under her nightgown, anticipating that tonight would be the night she would attempt this for the first time in quite a while. She sat on her knees once on the bed, reaching for her bedside table and blowing out all the candles but one, leaving a very dim, soft glow lighting only the space around her bed.

She settled herself on her back, looking up at the dark ceiling. She steadied her breaths, feeling as nervous as she expected she would feel if someone were really beside her, about to make love to her for the first time. But she was alone, she reminded herself—and had no reason to fear her own actions, or to be nervous about her own touch.

She began with her hands resting on her stomach, letting her eyes flutter closed. She tried to think in generics at first; images of strong men and lean women filling her mind’s eye, trying to think of what she found attractive to test the waters before diving fully in. She knew both male and female anatomy well, being an artist, after all (even though she had not seen a naked body other than her own in any sexual scenario, she had in her artistic studies), which made the daunting task of imagining someone naked before her at least a little bit easier.

She thought of toned muscles, rough fingers, long hair, bright eyes...the gentle swell of a soft breast beneath a loose cotton shirt, of a gold chain resting against the warm skin of a neck only inches away from her face...

She thought about a hard, toned body above her, a light sheen of sweat from a long day spent under the sun; her reaching up with curious hands to trace the contours of a muscular abdomen, worked hard from years of training. She thought of calloused fingers brushing down her sides over a dress, the feeling dulled by the cloth between them—and then, of those same rough, strong hands reaching under her dress, pulling it from her body, and casting it aside, leaving her in nothing more than a thin, silk underdress. She’d be able to feel their fingers more fully, like that, surely...only a thin barrier left between them.

Clarke’s hands shook at the thought, moving ever so slowly to stroke up her own stomach, coming to the swell of her chest. Letting her fingers dance around her soft skin, she imagined someone touching her breasts with adoration, cupping her chest in their strong hands, thumbs moving across her peaked nipples. She let her own hands do such and gasped a little at the feeling, surprised to feel a shot of desire surge down her body and pool in the depths of her belly. She imagined them ducking their head down then, a warm mouth wrapping around her rosy buds and licking, sucking, nipping until she was panting, hands coming to their hair and holding them down for more. They would kiss their way across her chest, soft, pink lips wrapping around the forgotten breast and doing the same motions, bringing the same gasps and groans and bucking hips from Clarke a second time.

But surely, that wouldn’t last forever. Clarke clenched her jaw in anticipation as she brought her fingers down to her center, swiping through her folds. She inhaled sharply, a combination of finding herself wetter than she had anticipated and the overwhelming feeling of something brushing against her aching bud for the first time in a long time. She let herself imagine someone else’s fingers, long and lean, feeling her there, working her up, circling her most sensitive spot. But these vague images wouldn’t last; they never did, and so Clarke forced herself to think specifically of the man she would soon marry as she touched herself.

She imagined what it would be like to have been Octavia, eyes shut, head lolling back, feeling the tongue of her lover between her legs. Surely, it would feel better than her own fingers, wouldn’t it? She tried to imagine his voice, growing deeper and gruffer each time they had met over the past three years, grunting her name against her slick skin, his mouth worshipping her. She brought her other hand down to join the first, and, slipping a finger in carefully, imagined what it would feel like if the prince’s fingers were inside of her instead of her own, joining the onslaught of his tongue. 

Her fingers worked quickly, and she could feel it stirring for the first time—something she hadn’t quite felt before. Knowing what it must be, she refused to let herself quit, refused to let her mind wander…

She imagined what it would feel like, bucking her hips into his face, rather than into her own hand. She thought of what it would be like to reach down and tug on dark, curly hair, pulling him closer and closer as she ascended higher and higher…

Clarke shook her head as if shaking her thoughts away as she ground down into her hand, a small moan passing through her lips. She was nearly there, the scales were tipping, her pleasure was rapidly rising and beginning to crest, so she circled her fingers around her sensitive bud faster, and pumped her other fingers inside of herself harder, and imagined what it would be like to look down and see those piercing green eyes staring up at her in a haze of lust, feeling the smirk of those rosy, plump lips against her folds…

And it dawned on Clarke that it wasn’t the prince, with his blonde hair and light gray eyes, that she was imagining worshiping her, settled between her legs.

Clarke, a taut rubber band, finally snapped—her pleasure crested, and she was rapidly falling, falling, _falling,_ and came with a cry of Lexa’s name on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think. I'd love to hear your comments here or over at legendofbisexuals on tumblr. Feel free to chat with me whenever!


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter of important conversations, between everybody but the two girls who need to communicate the most.

_VI._

Clarke stared out the window, watching the palace grow smaller and smaller as the carriage moved onwards. A gentle hand on her knee brought her back to the present, absent eyes glancing over at the source of the soft touch. 

“You’ve barely said a word since our departure, Clarke. Are you alright?” 

Clarke gave a small smile, nodding once. Letting her eyes slip away from the gray ones before her, she glanced over at the other person in the carriage, the subject of her previous night’s imagination, and felt herself heat up under the intensity of that green gaze. Quickly, she glanced back at Aden and, deciding to ignore the tugging feeling in her stomach, she placed her hand over his, giving him a thankful squeeze for the gesture of support. The sight of their hands together was foreign to Clarke; her smaller, thinner hand atop his much larger one, the remnants of nearly-gone ink staining Aden’s fingers beneath her own fingers, likewise stained with bits of stubborn charcoal. The deep blue of her sapphire engagement ring glittered in the morning sun beaming through the carriage window; the jewel at the top of the mountain of their hands. The softness of Aden’s hand underneath hers...his hand so different than the slender, calloused ones she had imagined the night before…

It was then that Aden turned his hand over beneath hers, wrapping his fingers around Clarke’s hand in a much more intimate hold. Clarke had to tear her eyes away, to look anywhere else, but of course, her traitorous eyes gazed longingly across the carriage once more, settling on the sight of Lexa, her lips turned downwards in what would’ve looked like a distant, neutral expression to anyone who didn’t know her well, as emotionally guarded as Lexa was; but Clarke knew better. Guilt—for what reason Clarke could not discern—flooded Clarke.

“What’s happened? You’re usually much chattier than this,” Aden said, the sound of his voice once more startling Clarke away from her thoughts and back to reality. 

Clarke hesitated, not wanting to lie to her dear friends, but too afraid to tell the truth. “Strange...dreams plagued me last night.”

“Plagued you?” Aden asked, leaning forward. “Unwelcome dreams?”

Clarke swallowed, glancing over at Lexa once more, who was now giving Clarke a very noticeable look of concern; her eyebrows were furrowed, her elbows were resting on her knees, as Lexa, like her brother, leaned forward. Clarke felt her tongue dart out to relieve the dryness she suddenly felt on her lips. “Not quite unwelcome, just...unexpected,” she said, watching the way Lexa’s was studying her. Lexa quirked an eyebrow; she knew Clarke was hedging, but, from the way Lexa relaxed, the muscles in her forearms losing their tensity, Clarke knew she wasn’t about to inquire any further, for now.

Aden hummed noncommittally at that, leaning back into his own seat, as well, though his hand stayed put around Clarke’s. “Well, the prophets at Delfi do say women tend to have dreams foretelling the future more so than men. Perhaps it’s an omen for something yet to come?”

Clarke didn’t know how to respond to that, other than, _something was coming, alright_ , so she chose not to respond, finally looking away from Lexa and back out the window. A few moments of silence passed before the siblings began to converse about the week ahead, exchanging ideas of small pleasantries and adventure. From her periphery, Clarke saw Lexa pull out a tattered leather journal and a quill, and the girl began to write what Clarke assumed was an itinerary for their vacation. 

“You’ll love the village of Winchester, Clarke. The countryside is beautiful at this time of year.” Aden remarked mid-thought about taking Clarke into the village’s marketplace. “There’s also a beautiful rose garden on the duchess’s grounds. Do you remember meeting the duke and duchess at Lexa’s birthday party all those years ago?"

Clarke shook her head, “I’m afraid not, sorry. I met so many people that evening before we managed to escape.”

Aden and Lexa both snickered at that, and Clarke looked over at Lexa once more, feeling her own lips quirk up in a smile at the sight of her friend smiling, herself, for the first time on this journey. Clarke watched as Lexa continued to scribble at the paper, the elegant, curly handwriting so familiar to Clarke taking up the page in detailed, organized bullet points. She tried to discern what Lexa was writing but, from across the carriage, as small as the space may be, it was too hard to make much sense of the beautiful script. 

“Anyway, the rose garden at Winchester doesn’t hold a candle to Lexa’s, but it still is beautiful. Lex, why don’t you take Clarke for tea with the duchess in the morning? I’m sure you girls would have a _great_ time taking a stroll through the gardens with Her Grace.” Clarke was intrigued, wondering about the sarcasm dripping through in Aden’s tone.

Lexa snorted, her eyes finally coming up from the page before her. “I would not want to bore the princess with that old hag’s endless prattling and needless jeers and taunts.”

“Lexa!” Aden laughed with an offended gasp. 

Lexa quirked a brow, this time directed at her younger brother. “Oh, Aden, spare me your dramatics. You also dislike her.”

At Aden’s shrug of agreement, Clarke asked, “Why do we dislike the duchess?” She looked at Aden expectantly, who merely gestured to Lexa.

With a sigh, Lexa shut the journal. “Her Grace was very outspoken about disliking my preferences and made a fuss that my parents should disown me if I would not marry a man, as they wished. Of course, she only said as much in private, and publicly we must get along, as we are family, after all.” 

Clarke frowned at that, feeling anger swell within her. “Well, I certainly dislike such a wench, then.”

“Ah, but a pity to miss those gardens...perhaps the two of you could sneak in anyway. Lexa does give a very good tour of the grounds,” Aden said. “And the garden is one of the most beautiful places in the countryside.”

Clarke hummed at that. “I didn’t know you had a love for gardening, Lexa.”

“Surprising?” Lexa asked with a smirk, setting her journal beside her on the carriage seat. 

“A tad,” Clarke said, watching the way Lexa’s chest moved with each laugh that came forth from beneath exposed, tanned skin. That familiar golden glint beneath Lexa’s unbuttoned blouse kept her attention for perhaps a second too long as, when she finally locked eyes with Lexa once more, the smile on Lexa’s face was faltering, parted lips and a dusting of pink across Lexa's cheeks replacing it, and Clarke knew she had been caught. She cleared her throat, quickly saying, “But perhaps I should not have been. Despite being a woman of war, you do have a very feminine way about you, Lexa.”

Rosy lips upturned once more. “Well, I may be a dog of the military, but I still am a lady in my free time,” she teased. “The gardens at our palace began with my grandmother’s rose bush. I’ve tended to that bush and planted many more since her death a decade ago, with the help of the palace gardeners. It’s a quiet little sanctuary.”

“Little?” Aden rolled his eyes. “Don’t be modest, here, Lexa. This is Clarke; you can brag all you want.” He paused, waiting for his sister to brag away, and huffed in annoyance when she would not. “It’s huge,” he finally explained to Clarke. “Unlike any garden I’ve ever seen before. Beside our grand lake, hidden and surrounded by weeping willow trees, secluded from the rest of the palace grounds. A romantic place for Lexa to one day take a special lady friend,” he suggested with an unsubtle wink. 

And then it felt as though somebody were tying a ribbon with Clarke’s intestines. “You have a...lady friend?”

“No,” Lexa said simply, giving her younger brother a glare. 

“She’s so uptight, though, she could use one,” Aden muttered beneath his breath to Clarke. 

“With what free time?” Lexa groaned, exasperated. “ _You_ try taking over the army and let me know how much time you have to court, let alone think about courting somebody,"

“Ah, but I’m lucky; Father did all the work for me,” he teased, giving Clarke’s hand a squeeze. 

“Will I ever be granted permission to see these gardens then, Lexa?” Clarke changed the subject quickly, trying not to sound too eager to speak of anything other than her betrothal. 

“You are indeed a special lady to me,” Lexa smiled. “So, perhaps. But for now I suppose we can take a tour of the duchess’s garden for a morning stroll one day, if you’d like. But I can’t promise I’ll be polite if she shows up to accompany us.”

And, despite the discomfort of Aden’s hand still intimately wrapped up in her own, Clarke felt herself fall at ease in Lexa’s gentle gaze. Could it be…?

* * *

“You had a _sex dream_ about Princess Alexandria?” Raven whispered hastily as she slammed the door to Clarke’s guest quarters shut, locking it tightly. “Why didn’t you tell us this morning?”

Clarke sighed, letting herself fall back onto the plush bed, her head barely making it onto the pillow. She brought her hands up to her face and groaned into her palms, the noise thankfully muffled against her own skin. “First of all, it wasn’t a dream. I was fully awake when I...imagined it,” she muttered, letting her hands come away from her blushing face and fall against the mattress. “And I didn’t say anything because I was afraid talking about it would make me even more of a bumbling, nervous wreck than I already felt.”

Octavia and Raven made their way to either side of her bed, sitting carefully. “Well, what do you think this means?” Octavia asked, reaching over to brush ruffled curls from the princess’s face. 

“I think it means Princess Clarke got it up to the image of her fiancés sister going down,” Raven quipped, and Octavia reached over hastily, smacking the other girl across the shoulder. “Ouch!”

“Don’t be so crude when the princess is obviously having a difficult time processing this!”

“This is your fault,” Clarke said after a moment, sitting up once more. She pointed a finger at them, accusatory, wagging it in a way very similar to the way Abigail did when Clarke was in trouble. “If you two nibby-noses didn’t pester me about Lexa and if I found her attractive, she never would’ve come to mind!”

“Calm down, calm down,” Raven said with a sigh. “A sex dream doesn’t have to mean anything more than the simple fact that you find her attractive. And, she probably _is_ really good at sex. I mean, have you seen her?” Raven fanned herself. “Good gods, I almost had a sex dream about her after meeting her this morning!” Octavia rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t roll your eyes. You wouldn’t understand, Octavia, you have no feelings for women.”

“But I do have eyes, thank you,” Octavia huffed. “I can see how attractive the princess is; I just can manage my dirty thoughts better than either of you, it seems.”

“Says the girl who lost her virginity first, the youngest of us all!” Raven quipped, and Clarke was about to lose it.

“Ladies, please,” she sighed, bringing her fingers to her temples. With a shuddering exhale, Clarke began to rub at either side of her head. “Lexa is _just_ a friend. It is normal to think about a friend, you said it yourselves,” Clarke said, though she sounded more like she was trying to convince herself, rather than either of her companions. “Right?"

Octavia shrugged, bluntly honest as ever. “Possibly. Or it could mean you’re dealing with something more emotional. But just remember your place, Princess. You have a duty first and foremost to your people, and then Aden. Don’t let...whatever these feelings may be, whether attraction of a physical nature or something more, get in the way of that.”

“Of course I know that!” Clarke huffed, standing from the bed and walking hastily over to her wardrobe, prying the doors open to find the dresses Octavia had put away upon their arrival. “Whatever it was, it was a fluke. One imagination means nothing more than the fact that I was...pent up with frustrations of various natures, and she’s a beautiful woman.”

“Did you manage to imagine the prince, as well?” Octavia asked, curiously. 

Clarke paused, her hand resting against the light green fabric of one of her newest dresses, made from the material she had bought at the market a few days prior. She pulled the dress out, walking over to Raven and handing it over before reaching around to the ties of the modest cotton gown she was wearing, unlacing herself. “I did.” 

“But he wasn’t the grand finale, was he?” Raven asked with a sigh as she moved around to Clake’s back, helping her unlace the dress. 

“Perhaps dwelling on the imaginations will do more harm than good,” Octavia interrupted, standing once more as well. She helped Clarke step out of her cotton dress, taking the material to the wardrobe and hanging it up as Raven assisted Clarke in her outfit change. “You need to focus on spending this week with your betrothed and getting to know him...perhaps even intimately,” Octavia suggested as she returned to the princess’s side.

Clarke gaped. “I can’t—”

“Not all the way,” Octavia said, raising her hands slightly. “But, you are going to marry the man in a few short years, Princess. Perhaps a romantic stroll along the countryside will provide a good opportunity to get closer. Romantic hugs; perhaps even a kiss. Who knows? Maybe you’re...confused about everything because of the intimacy you’ve shared thus far with Princess Alexandria. Maybe when you begin to spend more time with the prince, you’ll grow in affection for him and realize you _are_ attracted to him.”

Clarke nodded slowly, but she couldn’t help the frown which settled itself upon her face at the thought. Octavia did have a point, however much Clarke disliked admitting it. She _had_ been spending most of her time between the siblings with Lexa. Changing that, as Lexa would be spending a good majority of this vacation training, after all, might very well be an illuminating experience for Clarke…

* * *

Lexa let out a shaky breath as Anya held her hands up in surrender. “I’ll give you that round, brat. You’re getting better,” Anya groaned as she sheathed her sword, cracking her neck.

“And you’re getting old,” Lexa jeered, sheathing her own sword. 

“I can still kick your ass if I want to, Lexa. Don’t forget that.” Anya huffed, placing her hands on her hips. “Go; water.” She nodded towards the canteens they had brought to the field serving as their training grounds, shooing Lexa away. Lexa rolled her eyes but acquiesced, jogging over quickly and taking a large swig. As she was done, she held the canteen out for Anya.

“Are you sure your being here is a good idea?” Anya asked as she began to walk over.

Lexa glanced up at her mentor, giving her a scowl. “This was supposed to be _my_ vacation; I think being here is alright.”

“Well,” Anya sighed, stepping forward and grabbing the canteen. “Now this is Aden and Clarke’s vacation, and we are very much intruding _just_ to intrude. We could be training at home with much better facilities, yet you choose to come along on their preemptive honeymoon.”

Lexa straightened at that, crossing her arms. “I am not intruding on my _own_ vacation, Anya.” After a moment, she huffed, “if anyone is intruding, it’s Aden.”

Anya swatted at Lexa, pushing her off balance. Lexa yelped as she steadied herself, sending a look of disbelief Anya’s way. “Will you ever cease fighting dirty?”

“Not until you learn to always expect your opponent to do so,” Anya said humorlessly. She screwed the lid back on the canteen and let it fall to the ground. “Lexa, stop being so ignorant and honestly tell me this: do you have feelings for Clarke?”

Lexa took a step back, feeling her heart jump up into her throat. “What?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Anya sighed again, growing exasperated with Lexa. “I see the way you look at her; I hear the way you talk about her. I’ve seen your sickening love letters, Lexa.”

“They aren’t _love_ letters,” Lexa scoffed. “Can’t I write to a dear friend about literature and her nervous emotional state? She’s going through a lot, Anya. I could’ve easily been in her position a few years ago had I not enlisted. I’m just trying to be a friend.”

Anya snorted. "You are my friend, and yet you never write waxing lines of poetry for me. If you are also just a friend to Clarke, either you wound my pride and insult me in not writing novels of praise for me as well, or you’re an overly-affectionate friend to the princess.” Anya said. “You’re giving her...ideas about your feelings.”

“Feelings?” Lexa deadpanned. “And what would those be?”

Anya shrugged. “I know you find her attractive.”

“One would have to be blind not to,” Lexa said, growing frustrated. “I’m sure you do, as well.”

“Of course I do,” Anya said, taking another step closer, invading Lexa’s personal space. “But I don’t have any emotions attached to that observation. Clarke’s beauty is just that to me; an observation. You, on the other hand,” Anya paused, noting the twitch in Lexa’s eye. “You care for her more than you should.”

“I don’t wish to discuss this.”

“So you admit it?” Anya asked, now reaching out with a finger to push at Lexa’s shoulder, urging her on.

“She’s seventeen,” Lexa said, brushing Anya’s hand off of her. “And engaged to my little brother. Clarke is a dear friend to me.”

Anya held her hands up in surrender, relenting. “For your sake, I hope that’s all she is.” She leather hands drop to her sides, gazing back at the cottage. “Go wash up so you can take your _dear friend_ on that picnic you promised her.”

Lexa laughed in disbelief, her anger towards her mentor growing. “Would you like to chaperone for me to prove to you that there is nothing going on between us?”

“A chaperone might do you well in indulging your fantasies, Lexa,” Anya said, her voice raising. “But a swift slap to the face would be better suited to bring you back to reality. Whether you’ll admit it or not, you have feelings for Clarke. You need to spend less time with her and bury those thoughts deep down. You _cannot_ ruin Arkadia’s chance at survival in ruining her marriage with Aden. Why is a Trikru girl not enough for you? There are plenty who are willing—”

“Anya, stop,” Lexa said, her eyes narrowing.

“Is that an order, _Princess_?” Anya asked, her own gaze hardening to match Lexa’s.

“Yes.” Lexa said, unfaltering. She stood tall, turning the tides and now stepping into Anya’s personal space, up close and personal. “You’re my best friend, Anya. You do well to remind me of my place. But in doing so, don’t forget _yours_. If I seek your advice on this issue further, I’ll ask for it. Otherwise, my friendship with Clarke is my business, and this discussion is over.”

Anya grunted, brushing Lexa’s shoulder with her own as she walked off without a word. Lexa’s throat was tight as she watched Anya walk away. Something swelled within Lexa, building in her stomach and blossoming at her chest—how could her friend accuse her of such? Surely, her feelings for Clarke were platonic. She was a dear friend, a loyal confidante—and Lexa knew her place well...

It wasn't until Lexa was completely alone in the field, after Anya was out of sight, that Lexa realized her hands were shaking.

* * *

“I trust your first day here has been enjoyable?” Lexa asked as she lay lazily on her side against the picnic blanket, an elbow resting on the ground to prop her head up. She reached for a slice of cheese, nibbling on it as she watched Clarke pick at the bowl of fruit before her.

Clarke nodded. “It’s been...enlightening today,” she settled on saying with a tense smile. Clarke stared intently at a grape before eating it, looking over Lexa’s lounging body towards the meadow behind her. 

“Enlightening?” Lexa asked curiously. “In what way?”

Clarke chuckled a little at that. “It’s a secret,” she smiled, eyes coming down to meet Lexa’s. She was startled to see how soft a look Lexa was giving her. Had Lexa always looked at her this way, as though she hung the moon and stars in the sky? Or, perhaps, was she imagining that soft look as something more than it really was? “You must be uncomfortable, lying in such a way on the hard ground.” She said casually, despite her racing thoughts, reaching for another grape. 

“It’s not too bad; this blanket offers enough cushion against the ground.” To prove her point, Lexa flopped onto her back, snuggling even more into the ground. “You should join me.”

Clarke snorted. “How ladylike,” she said, “to lie with the ants and worms.”

“Even royalty deserves a moment to simply be human and appreciate a good picnic, Princess.”

Clarke frowned. “Why must you call me by such a title, Lexa? You’ve called me by name by now; must we return to old formalities?”

Lexa turned her head to be able to look at the princess more easily. Noticing the girl’s frown, Lexa sighed. “It’s only proper, Princess. I serve you and Aden as the commander of the army.”

“Well, you aren’t her, yet,” Clarke said, moving the cheese platter out of the way between them and crawling closer to Lexa. “Indra is still the commander. And I’m not yet queen—I’m just Clarke, for now. And you are just my dear friend, Lexa. Call me by my title when it’s official and done, but for now, please humor me in first and foremost being my friend.”

“Alright, Clarke,” Lexa whispered. Clearing her throat, she said, “Then, you must humor me as well in lying next to me and watching the stars as they wake up. It’s a beautiful sight out here in the countryside. It’s as though the stars shine brighter here in Winchester.”

Clarke nodded, pushing down the skirt of her dress to maintain modesty as she settled herself on her back, letting her head rest against the blanket. She felt her tiara topple with the movement and reached for it, pulling it from her curls and setting it aside, in between her and Lexa. As she placed the tiara down, her pinky brushed against Lexa’s, and Clarke let out a small gasp of surprise. “Sorry,” Clarke said, turning her head to face Lexa’s. She gulped as she realized just how close the two of them were, noses only inches apart.

“For what?” Lexa asked. 

Instead of explaining, Clarke let her fingers graze Lexa’s once more. “That,” 

Lexa laughed, and Clarke swore the butterflies fluttering in the field around them took residence in her stomach at the sound. “Don’t apologize for that, Princess.” She paused. “Clarke.”

Clarke forced herself to look away, to rest her head flatly against the blanket once more and stare at the sky. Surely by now, as Lexa had suggested, the sun was nearly set; the stars were beginning to shine in the sky. She heard Lexa at her side do the same as she had done, her hair rustling against the blanket as Lexa looked up at the sky once more.

“Can I share something with you, Lexa? With no judgement?”

“Always,” Lexa said.

“Even if it involves...suggestiveness about your brother?”

Lexa paused. “Did he attempt something with you today which you were not ready for?”

“No,” Clarke said quickly, and Lexa didn’t even try to conceal the breath of relief which she let out. “Nothing at all like that. I just...my handmaidens, they are...confidantes when you are not around. They are helping me as well in my preparation for this marriage, and all the emotional responses it brings out in me.”

“Oh?” Lexa urged her on.

“Yes,” Clarke said, hesitating. “They...encouraged me to imagine Aden in a rather intimate manner, to see if that would change my feelings about him.”

Lexa felt her throat constrict. She felt her fingers go cold at the suggestion, despite the temperate spring breeze permeating the evening. “Did it?”

“Actually, I think it made things worse. I was...unable to maintain an image of him for too long.” Clarke shook her head as she thought. “Now, Octavia is encouraging me to...spend less time with you, and more with Aden, to see if I can change this.”

“Oh,” Lexa said, her stomach turning at the thought. “Well, what do you think?”

“Her idea has merit,” Clarke sighed. “I mean, our vacation has already been ruined,” she said, melancholy. “I suppose...going on dates with him while you must train would be a benefit for our...relationship, or at the very least, a way to simply pass the time and grow to recognize each other’s company in a domestic manner.”

“I can return home if you’d like to spend the week with Aden alone,” Lexa said, turning her head again to watch the various expressions running over Clarke’s face as she contemplated.

“I will not make that decision for you,” Clarke said, letting her eyes fall shut. She couldn’t bear to look at Lexa at this moment, not when she was so confused, and the object of her previous night’s affections was so near…

“If it will assist you in forging a bond with Aden,” Lexa said, the words tasting bitter as she spoke them, “I would be alright leaving you behind. You’d be in good hands.”

“This was supposed to be _our_ getaway,” Clarke muttered. “How unfair it is that we be called to our own respective duties,” she said with a weak laugh.

“We always will be, Princess.”

Clarke opened her eyes once more. “Life should be about more than just surviving amidst the day-to-day duties we owe to our people. It’s not fair that we must live such lives for everyone but ourselves. Don’t we deserve better than that?” She turned to face Lexa one more time.

Silence hung in the air between the two girls. Their gazes locked on one another; the only sounds between them were the gentle puffs of their breaths. Lexa glanced from Clarke’s eyes, to her lips, to the silver resting against her chest...

Lexa opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, Clarke sat upright, reaching for her tiara. “I’m sorry. That was unfair of me to ask.” Clarke pushed herself up, sitting upright on her knees. “Many people are far worse off than I. I’m a _princess_ in a position afforded more luxuries than most of my citizens combined. I’m fed, I have doctors, I have two living parents. I’m ungrateful to be wishing not to live this life.”

Lexa clenched her jaw, simultaneously grateful she had not been able to respond lest she make a fool of herself, yet also missing the closeness the two had just shared. “No; you’re human,” Lexa said, sitting up as well. “We always want that which we don’t have. It’s the very nature of things; the gods made us that way.”

“Guinevere,” Clarke shook her head with a sad smile.

Lexa’s brow creased. “What of her?”

“I’ve said it before,” Clarke said, positioning herself to sit facing Lexa once more. “I’m far too much like her. Her fatal flaw is wishing for whatever she doesn’t have, and when she gets it, she is ungrateful and wishes for something else. She is never satisfied, and I’m no better than she.” At Lexa’s silence, Clarke sighed. “It’s alright, Lexa; I’m not asking you to agree or disagree. Just...making an observation.”

“Lot’s of those going around today,” Lexa muttered.

“Pardon?” Clarke asked, tilting her head in confusion.

“Sorry,” Lexa said, shaking her head. “I had a rather frustrating conversation with Anya earlier today. She made many...observations which I thought were nonsensical.”

“Thought, as in past-tense?” 

Lexa shrugged at that, offering a tight-lipped smile. She refused to let herself ponder much more of her conversation with Anya—at least, not while around Clarke. These thoughts could be dealt with later. “We shall see how these things work out; will we not?”

Clarke nodded, though she was confused. 

Despite telling herself her thoughts would not rule this evening, the shaking in her hands from earlier came back as Lexa watched the moon’s glow begin to radiate from behind Clarke. “Maybe it is best that you spend this week with Aden,” Lexa said after a long pause.

“Do you not wish to spend time with me, then?” Clarke asked, leaning forward on her knees slightly. 

“No; of course I do,” Lexa swallowed, Anya’s words from earlier echoing in her mind despite her insistence to herself to block them out. No, she argued to herself—what Anya said had no credit; she was only overthinking this _because_ Anya had picked and pried at her enough to make her doubt her own feelings towards her friend. “But your handmaiden is right. Perhaps this is the best time to get to know Aden...in a more special way.”

Clarke frowned, leaning back so that she was fully resting on her feet once more. “Will I see you at all, then?”

Lexa smiled, turning away and reaching for the cheese platter. “Let’s clean up, alright?”

* * *

The next morning, Lexa was absent from breakfast. Clarke sat across from Aden at the quaint, circular breakfast table, eyes darting around the room as she searched for any sign of her friend.

“Lexa took off early this morning, if that’s who you’re looking for,” Aden said with a smile, reaching onto the table for a slice of bread. 

Clarke frowned. “She went home?”

Aden’s head tilted slightly as he shook his head. “No; into the village with Anya. They went to some tavern to meet up with a regiment stationed here for training. She said not to expect her until sunset, at least.”

Clarke hummed. So, that would be how Lexa would spend her days—technically in reach of Clarke, but certainly far enough away to be providing that space with Aden which they had discussed. Perhaps she should not have said anything at all to Lexa.

“Would you accompany me to the lake today, Clarke?” Aden asked as he buttered his bread, before offering the knife to Clarke to do the same. She took it graciously and nodded, feeling no other choice. 

“A day at the lake sounds quite picturesque, Aden. What would you have us do?” 

“Well, we have plenty of canoes docked there. Perhaps we could journey out onto the water for a bit? We could bring our sketchbooks as well; make use of the scenery.” 

Clarke had to admit—Aden was at least trying to spend time with her doing the kinds of things she liked. She smiled despite the tugging feeling in her stomach; Aden was a good man. It was about time she at least recognized that. “That sounds lovely,” she said, and was surprised to find that her words were honest. Perhaps a day out with Aden could prove to be rather fun; they did both love the arts, and this would be a good chance to bond.

“It’s settled then!” Aden said cheerily, calling over one of the guards standing watch. “Could you arrange for a few of my servants and Princess Clarke’s handmaidens to assist in packing supplies for a journey to the lake, Sir? Including our art materials.” The guard nodded and was off, leaving the two alone in the dining area.

A silence settled between them as they ate—not quite comfortable, not quite awkward. 

“Well,” Clarke said after she finished her meal. “I must go get ready for our first real date, then,” Clarke gave a friendly wink to Aden, who laughed in turn. “No pressure.”

“Well, I’ve already proposed, so I figure the most nerve-wracking part is out of the way,” Aden jested, and Clarke was relieved that there was little tension in their joking. Perhaps this would be an alright day.

With Raven and Octavia’s assistance, Clarke changed into a much lighter cotton dress, short-sleeved and without any unnecessary layers beneath the flowing skirt, much more fitting for a day outdoors. As Raven laced her up, Octavia twisted Clarke’s hair into a simple style, keeping her curls off of her neck. Clarke opted to leave her tiara behind for the day, not risking any chance of it falling in the lake, and locked it up in her travelling chest, cushioned by Lexa's old letters which Clarke always kept on her. 

It was only a few short minutes later that they were walking out to the edge of the property, a basket of food in Clarke’s hands while Aden carried their supplies. With assistance from Raven and Octavia, the two set up their canoe and were off, Aden paddling them towards the center of the lake. Once they settled in a spot distant enough away from the shore, Clarke allowed herself a moment to sunbathe, her head tilted upwards and her eyes closed as she enjoyed the warm sun amidst the spring breeze. She inhaled deeply as the wind picked up, enjoying the smell of the earth around her. It was peaceful out here, like this. The earth around her, it had such a familiar smell, one she would never forget, but also one she could not quite place...

The sound of scratching roused Clarke from her daydreams about the wind. Clarke opened her eyes, squinting as she readjusted to the light, to see Aden already at work, scribbling away. “What are you drawing?” She asked curiously, leaning closer to see. 

“How the cottage looks from this distance,” Aden said, his tongue poking out of his mouth. “I’m not the best with lead, and I certainly need more work with distance, so this will prove to be quite an educational journey for me,”

“I’m sure you’ll do well,” Clarke said encouragingly as she reached for her own materials. She placed a cloth over her skirt for later use to wipe her hands off on, reaching for her charcoal to begin. Clarke wasn’t one to ponder about what to draw; she let her hands guide her mind, rather than the other way around. She found it much more enjoyable when she began with no end point in mind, no goal to attain, no expectations to judge her final product against. She started with the grass, a blanket perched on top, a picnic basket in the middle of the blanket. 

For a good while, the only noises around the two artists were the chirping of birds and the scratching of lead and charcoal against paper. It was finally Aden who began the conversation again.

“I have to say,” he began cautiously, looking up from his work to look at Clarke. “I appreciate you humoring me today in this date.”

Clarke frowned, pausing in her work. “What do you mean?”

Aden smiled and gave a half-shrug. “I know our impending marriage is not what you would have chosen for yourself,” he said. “And I really do apologize that you will lead a life for your people, rather than for yourself.”

“So will you,” Clarke said quietly.

Aden laughed a little at that, biting at his bottom lip. “Well, perhaps. But I always wanted this life, Clarke. I was thrilled when Lexa abdicated to lead the army, allowing me to be king.” Aden shrugged. “I want to be a leader who can inspire others. I want to be kind and bring prosperity. I want…” he trailed off.

Clarke nodded, urging him on.

“I’ve always wanted a wife and a family, and I’m lucky that one as kindhearted and beautiful as you would be that partner for me, and that mother to my children,” he said, a tad shyly, his cheeks blushing red. “Though I do feel sorry that it is not what you want.”

Clarke sighed at that, setting her charcoal down. “It’s not that I don’t want it—” she began.

“I know,” Aden interrupted, but gave her a kind, knowing smile. “You do want a marriage and children, but with someone of your choosing. I can respect that, and I understand.” He paused. “But I can’t change our circumstances, so...as I’ve said before, I’ll do all I can to make you as happy as you can be. And I want you to know, I’ll never hold any ill will towards you if you never develop a romantic love for me. Someone as stubborn and headstrong as a woman like you should choose her partner, and I understand if your heart won’t choose me.”

Clarke smiled a genuine smile. She nodded. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “And for the record, I am...trying.” She bit at her bottom lip for a moment before continuing. “I’ve just spent my whole life expecting that I won’t be happy, knowing deep down that I would be married off. I suppose I’ve destined myself to struggle with any marriage from the start with that attitude. I can’t promise anything, but I do know I want a good relationship with you, at the very least, as good friends, and as companionable partners.” She reached across the canoe with an extended hand, which Aden took gratefully. “Can we at least start there, and see what happens? I’m not in the business of making your heart hurt by giving promises I don’t know if I can keep.”

“Of course, Clarke,” Aden said sincerely, his grip around Clarke’s hand increasing to a reassuring squeeze. “All I ask for is honesty. Tell me how I can best make you happy, and I’ll do it. _I’m_ not in the business of making you live a life which you hate. If there’s anything I can do to make these next few years and our future marriage easier for you, I want to do it.”

“And get nothing in return?” Clarke asked, quirking a brow.

Aden shook his head with a smile. “I already told you Clarke; I’m getting what I want. Even if there may or may not be romantic love, a good partnership and a family of my own has always been what I desire, along with leading my people into good, peaceful times. With you by my side as my queen, the mother of my children—I couldn’t ask for a better image of a worthwhile life.”

“But will it really be worthwhile if I don’t end up loving you the same way you might end up loving me?” Clarke asked, quietly, feeling guilt for even saying the words aloud. 

“Well,” Aden said, letting go of Clarke’s hand. “I think as long as we are open with one another, there will be nothing we can’t work through and figure out together.”

Clarke nodded at that, reaching for her charcoal once more. A thought occurred to her; she gasped as Aden reached to pick up his sketchbook, lunging at him and grabbing his wrist. “Don’t—you’re covered in charcoal!” She yelled, and sprung forward with so much enthusiasm that she lost her balance, teetering over the edge of the canoe. Hastily, Aden reached for her, yelling her name, and Clarke grabbed at his wrist, inevitably pulling him over the edge with her. The two sputtered as they surfaced, and Clarke could feel the kohl on her eyes beginning to drip down her cheeks. Aden reached for her, supporting her weight, knowing her dress, no matter how light, would weigh her down. The two stared at each other for a long minute, before they burst out laughing—so loud, they caught the attention of the servants ashore waiting for their return. 

With the sounds of Raven’s frantic yelling about needing to get back in the canoe as background noise, Aden reached a hand up to wipe away at the smudges of kohl running down Clarke’s cheeks. “Clumsy,” he tutted, shaking his head.

Clarke snickered, shoving him away. “Jerk,” she muttered with a smile as she grabbed onto the side of the canoe. Aden made quick work of wiggling his way back up into the canoe, before reaching over to assist Clarke in re-entering as well. Through a series of careful, slow movements, Aden and Clarke were both back on the canoe once more. Aden reached for the blanket which was to become their table setting for their later picnic lunch, wrapping it around Clarke, who shivered a bit in the morning breeze. 

As he reached for the paddles to bring them back ashore, Aden inspected the hand which had been holding Clarke’s moments ago. “Well, at least the charcoal is gone,” he laughed. 

* * *

Clarke read in the drawing room as her second night at the cottage came to a close. After bathing away the lake water and redressing into an evening gown, Clarke cozied up next to the fireplace and began reading a new book, some tale about a specific knight of the Round Table, one by the name of Tristan. His character had intrigued Clarke in the first novel which she and Lexa had read together, so she was pleased to find a small collection of short stories written about him at the book shop before her departure. Clarke enjoyed how rapidly these different collections were popping up throughout the thirteen nations, each work unique in its own way while simultaneously compatible with other works by different authors. 

“Princess, it’s late,” a voice interrupted her reading, nearly startling her. Clarke jumped a bit in her seat, surprised to find Aden leaning against the doorframe. 

Clarke glanced out the window, seeing the sun had indeed set. “Time has slipped away from me again,” she laughed. “My apologies. I missed dinner, didn’t I?”

Aden nodded with a laugh. “There’s a plate left for you in the kitchen. I didn’t want to disturb the book club meeting in progress.”

Clarke gestured around. “Just me today, I’m afraid.”

“I have no doubt you and Lexa will discuss whatever it is either of you read this week, so I best let you focus when you do so,” Aden said. “But, I must be off. I’m afraid I have been given some homework during this vacation; my tutor will have my head if I don’t work on my translations.”

“Ah, ancient Trigedasleng?” Clarke smiled. “I’m supposed to be studying, too.” She brought a finger to her lips to signal her silence. “I won’t say anything if you take a night off.”

“I wish I could,” Aden said with a frown. “But that would mark four days now which I have shirked the responsibility. I fear if I continue down this road, I’ll never look back.” 

Clarke nodded, then, wishing him a goodnight. Aden hesitated at the doorway, glancing between Clarke and the staircase. Tentatively, he took a few steps forward, before suddenly stopping. He nodded respectfully, bidding Clarke a farewell, and turned to walk up the stairs. 

Clarke wondered about his hesitation, there, but did not dwell upon it for too long, getting sucked back into the book as rapidly as her attention had been torn away from it…

That is, until a loud clanging noise was heard from the kitchen, almost scaring the dress right off of Clarke. The princess glanced around, looking for a guard, but none was in the room with her. She hesitated for a long moment, before another loud noise was heard, followed by the shutting of what Clarke recognized as the servant’s entrance to the cottage through the kitchen. 

An intruder?

She thought to yell for Aden, but guilt rushed into her as soon as she thought it. He was busy; besides, it was most likely a forgetful servant, coming back to grab belongings or drop something mistakenly taken with them off. At the third loud noise, however, Clarke set her book aside, reaching for a candlestick, pulling the unlit candle off and grasping the heavy brass in her hand. Slowly, she started making her way towards the kitchen. The candlestick was just protection, she muttered to herself. It was likely the wind, or a servant. Nothing to be scared of.

Clarke let out a scream as a figure moved towards her in the dark. She lifted the candlestick up high, ready to slam it down upon the head of whomever it was approaching her, when a strong grip latched itself around her wrist. 

“Clarke, it’s me,” 

Relief immediately flooded her. “Lexa?” She exhaled shakily, dropping the candlestick. It bounced off the tiled floor, echoing a bit as it clattered. “Gods above, Lexa, you scared me!”

“S-sorry,” Lexa stuttered, before losing her footing. “Whoa,” she muttered, nearly falling backwards, had it not been for Clarke reaching to steady her. 

Hasty footsteps bounded down the stairs. “Clarke?” Aden’s voice called. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Clarke called back, “but Lexa might not be,” she leaned forward, sniffing. “Lexa, are you _drunk_?”

Aden was in the room in a moment, a candle illuminating the room enough so that Clarke could finally see Lexa’s face. Her eyes were glassy, a sure indicator that she’d had a little more than she should’ve. Clarke sighed, steadying Lexa once more as she tried to hold herself up. “Anya sent me home,” she muttered. 

“Why didn’t she come with you?” Clarke asked, enraged. “She sent you to stumble home alone?”

Lexa nodded, letting her head fall against Clarke’s shoulder. “S’what happens when you have a fight ‘n piss off Anya.” 

Aden scratched at his head. “Should I call for servants to assist her?”

Clarke shook her head. “No, thank you. If you can just help me get her up the stairs, I should be alright to help her settle in for the night. But you _can_ have a stern talking to your guards in the morning; nobody was around to help me when I heard Lexa come in,”

Aden said something along the lines of affirming Clarke in her disapproval, before assisting Clarke in getting Lexa up the stairs. When they reached Lexa’s room for the stay, Aden offered to help, or at least get a handmaiden to assist Clarke, but the princess insisted that she was alright.

Lexa was tired; it made it difficult for Clarke to assist her in undressing enough to be comfortable for the night. Clarke gave up after unbuttoning Lexa’s blouse, letting it rest open and her chest bindings exposed, and after Lexa had wiggled her way out of her slacks, still in her undershorts. “Are you alright?” She asked as she helped Lexa to sit up in her bed, resting her head against the wooden headboard behind her.

Lexa nodded, beginning to sober up a little, though still tipsy, from the exertion of undressing and getting into bed. “Sorry you’ve seen me like this, now.”

“Now?” Clarke asked, sitting beside Lexa. “Is this a recurring problem, Lexa? Do you have a dependence?” 

Lexa shook her head. “No.” She muttered. “Just a bad day.”

Clarke’s head bobbed sympathetically. “Well, try to get some rest. I’ll have a stern talking to Anya in the morning.”

“Please don’t,” Lexa sighed. “She doesn’t like you. Don’t want to make it worse.”

Clarke bristled at that. “What do you mean?”

“It’s my fault; not yours,” Lexa said. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Though she was irritated, Clarke nodded. “Wait—can you just, ugh,” Lexa groaned as she tried to pull her arm out of her sleeve. Clarke took pity on her, reaching over to assist in pulling the sleeve as Lexa tucked her arm in. As Clarke moved to Lexa’s other side, crawling across the bed to assist her in getting her other arm free, Clarke paused. Hesitantly, she reached out, fingers settling on the skin of Lexa’s collarbone, little purpled marks lining the same path the golden chain of her locket made from the side of her neck down to her chest. Bruises? Had somebody grabbed her by the neck? No, these were too small, too sporadic to be fingerprints...

Realization dawned on Clarke. She pulled back as though she had been burned, and anger swelled within her stomach. “Clarke?” Lexa asked sleepily, looking up at her. Clarke shook her head, not saying a word, and all but ran from the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me at legendofbisexuals on tumblr. Thank you for reading!


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya brings reality to both Clarke and Lexa.

_VII  
_

Clarke marched, full of fury, down the long hallway. She vaguely heard the sound of a door unlatching behind her and turned on her heel, ready to scream at Lexa not to follow her, when her eyes settled on the half-naked form of someone unexpected. Her finger was already pointed accusingly, her mouth open and ready to yell, but at the sight of her confused fiancé dressed only from the waist down, Clarke’s hand dropped to her side and she clenched her jaw. 

“What is all this ruckus about?” Aden asked, stepping towards Clarke. “Are you alright?”

“Your sister,” Clarke began, glancing between Aden’s chest and his eyes. She felt her face go warm as she realized that Aden must’ve begun getting ready for bed after Clarke and Lexa had retired to the latter’s room. 

Aden laughed a little awkwardly as he caught Clarke’s gaze, as if just realizing the state of his undress, too. “My sister is…” he trailed off, prompting Clarke to tear her eyes away from his torso.

Clarke looked up towards the ceiling. “Is drunk,” she said simply.

“Well, color me shocked to find you a teetotaler,” Aden laughed. “I’m sorry her drinking has offended you.”

“It is not her drinking which offends me,” Clarke sighed, feeling the anger within her begin to quell. “It’s her lack of propriety,” she said, tasting the untruth in her words.

Aden quirked an eyebrow. “What, did she get handsy with you?” He teased.

Clarke glared at him before shaking her head. “No, but she got handsy with some village whore, from the looks of it.”

“Clarke!” Aden said, offense coloring his tone as he stood up straighter, the relaxed nature of his stature fleeting in an instant. “Don’t say such a thing.”

“What? She’s covered in love bites—”

“Stop,” Aden held up a hand, interrupting her. “I meant, don’t call another woman such a foul name. That’s below you, Clarke.” Aden shook his head. “It’s not like you to resort to name-calling women you don’t even know.”

Clarke felt shame well up inside her stomach, but before she could respond, Lexa’s bedroom door was swinging open, Lexa blinking and reaching out for the wall to support her. Clarke took a breath, watching as Aden went to stabilize his sister, and crossed her arms over the silken fabric of her nightgown. She vaguely heard Aden murmur something to Lexa, who nodded sleepily, before looking up at Clarke. 

Aden sighed, saying something else to Lexa before looking back at Clarke. “Maybe you should just let me take care of her tonight. I’ve seen her in such a state once before; it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Clarke nodded slowly, unnerved by the intensity of Lexa’s green gaze. Without so much as a word to either of them, Clarke continued her flight from the siblings’ wing of the cottage. Different emotions flooded Clarke—anger, confusion, guilt—and she knew she would not be resting any time soon. She passed by her bedroom door, choosing instead to roam the common areas of the cottage, letting her mind wander. 

She entered the kitchen, retracing the steps Lexa had taken to come home, feeling her way through the darkness. 

What Lexa did in her free time was none of Clarke’s business; she knew that. So why did seeing those marks affect her so? Clarke detected jealousy deep within herself; she would be a fool not to admit that she had begun thinking of Lexa in a more intimate light after her conversations with her handmaidens, and after the rather erotic fantasy from a few nights prior. Clarke would not lie to herself—Lexa surely was attractive. But why should she be jealous? Lexa’s attractiveness was sure to be a pull for other women, and other women—uncommitted women—were free to do whatever they wanted with the consent of the princess. Perhaps it was jealousy that another had received the attention from Lexa which Lexa denied Clarke this day?

She made her way to the foyer, pacing circles around the elaborate candelabra lighting the small room. 

Surely, Clarke thought, ignoring the tugging feeling in her stomach, that was all. She had been offended when Lexa had ended their picnic early; confused why Lexa would want to spend less time with her. She had expectations of this vacation being for the two of them, and since Lexa chose to spend her time with another woman instead, that must be all the reason for Clarke’s jealousy.

Clarke moved towards the reading room, a tiny room offset to the left of the foyer, with a single chaise and one love seat placed in front of a fireplace. She paused as she stared at the books resting on the mantle. Clarke squinted in the darkness, making out the titles on the spines of the books—Arthurian romances, the ones she and Lexa had discussed wanting to chat about together on this vacation, all neatly lined up in a row, waiting to be chosen for a lovely evening’s conversation. 

Clarke let her fingers come to her locket, tracing over the raised etched patterns on the silver. The familiar design was seared into her brain at this point; her nervous habit was coming forth once again. If Lexa had this room prepared for them, why had she so willingly abandoned Clarke on their vacation? As she felt the pattern, her mind began to wander, recalling how Lexa had still been wearing the compatible golden locket when Clarke had discovered her marked up body -- and another bubbling of anger coursed through Clarke as she imagined Lexa wearing her special gift while another woman placed her hands on the soldier, _touched_ the locket; while Lexa touched the woman in the ways Clarke had fantasized being touched by the princess, herself; while Lexa had made another woman fall apart under her mouth and hands the way Clarke had foolishly hoped— 

Clarke tugged at the locket on her chest, yanking it off roughly and throwing it to the ground in offense, as though the metal had burned her. And for all intents and purposes, the locket may have done just that; for Clarke felt a fiery hole digging itself deeper and deeper into her chest where the locket once sat, settling within her heart.

Staring down at the locket, resignation settled within Clarke. She was not ready to admit the truth to herself, but she acknowledged its presence in her mind, in her heart, buried beneath layers of hope and fear and, finally, acceptance that what she wanted could never be. And because it could never be, it would remain nameless; unacknowledged; forgotten in time. 

She hoped.

Clarke worried at her bottom lip, feeling shame for how she had spurned Lexa away in such a vulnerable state. Perhaps the unnamed, unacknowledged, soon-to-be forgotten realization had come to Lexa as well; perhaps that is why she sought comfort in someone else.

Clarke could understand Lexa not wanting to speak with her about this; but why were Lexa’s own friends not a good enough comfort? She had been out with Anya all day, after all; why wasn’t Anya there for Lexa? Why did Anya send her sad, drunken friend away into the arms of a stranger, instead of being there for her, herself?

She left the locket in the middle of the reading room floor, returning to the foyer. She settled on the chaise near the front door, chilly in her silken evening gown, but too stubborn to move. She would wait for Anya’s arrival; she would not risk leaving for a moment, unwilling to miss the general’s return.

Clarke waited in the foyer well into the early hours of the morning. She reclined on chaise in the entryway, eyes focused on the cottage’s front door, left alone with her thoughts. Finally, a little past midnight, the front door opened. Clarke hastily stood, marching over to the older woman with a fury unlike any she’d felt before. “Why the hell did you do that to her?”

Anya halted in her steps, shutting the door behind her with her foot as she crossed her arms. “Princess,” she nodded her head politely. “I don’t know what you mean. Who are you talking about?”

Clarke scoffed. “Please spare me the niceties, Anya. Lexa told me how much you dislike me,” Clarke said. Taking a shaky breath, she stood upright. She was going against her better judgement, against all manner of propriety her parents had forced her to learn, but she found it hard to care when Lexa was concerned. She stepped closer into Anya’s space, challenging her. “I’ll give you one chance to tell me the truth about what happened tonight, or I’ll have the guards remove you until I can figure out what happened, myself.”

Anya cocked an eyebrow. Her arms still crossed, she laughed. “Where are these balls coming from, Clarke? And with what authority can you issue orders over me?”

“That is _Princess_ Clarke, to you, General Anya.” Clarke said, taking one final step closer, until the two women were merely inches apart. “And my authority comes from being your future queen. I have no want of making an enemy out of you, but if I must, I will.”

Anya mockingly frowned down at the young girl, tutting as she reached out gently to push a wild, frizzy curl behind Clarke’s ear. Before she had the chance, Clarke reached up, slapping away Anya’s hand with the back of her own. “You think you know what you’re doing,” Anya spat, “but you are nothing more than a child, meddling with Lexa’s heart and the future of your kingdom.”

“What did you say to her?” Clarke pressed, ignoring Anya’s taunts. 

“I told her the truth,” Anya said, and this time, she took a step forward. The sudden motion knocked Clarke off balance, nearly tripping over her own two feet as she was forced to step back. “I told her how you were leading her on, down a road of nothing but destruction for the two of you as well as our countries.” Clarke regained her footing as she huffed indignantly. “And if she chose to wallow away in her self-pity, to drink and bed some woman to feel better, that’s her choice. Why do you get a say? She owes _you_ nothing.”

“She is my best friend,” Clarke said, and, knowing it was unwise, reached out and pushed Anya back with all her might, slamming the older woman against the front door. Anya let out a grunt as the wood thumped against her back, her sheathed sword clattering at her side. “And she is not a _casual_ person. She is going to wake up in the morning full of regret and _you_ are going to be to blame.”

Anya was silent for a long moment, eyes boring down into Clarke’s. Clarke swallowed, surely intimidated, but unyielding. Her arm shook as she kept her palm flat against Anya’s shoulder. Anya glanced between Clarke’s eyes and the hand pressed against her skin, and she shook her head. “Some best friend you are. No, Lexa isn’t a casual person. Can’t you see this is your doing, not mine?” Anya said. She reached up quickly, grabbing the hand which was pinning her to the wall and gripping Clarke’s wrist in a firm hold. “Your youthful fantasies put Lexa in danger, you know that, right? What will happen to her already delicate reputation if your people and mine find out she’s stolen the prince’s betrothed? And what will happen to Arkadia when the alliance is broken because our future king can’t legally marry the harlot whose purity was taken by his _sister?_ Is there another royal family your mother can whore you out to? Will _their_ religion bless a marriage where their queen is not a virgin? Who, then, will come to Arkadia’s aid?”

Clarke clenched her jaw, ignoring the sting Anya’s words left. “We have done no such acts, not that it is any of _your_ business—”

“But it is!” Anya all but growled, her grip around Clarke’s wrist tightening. “My duty is first and foremost to my king and queen, and then my commander. Lexa will be her soon.”

“And I will be your queen soon, too,” Clarke hissed, tearing her wrist out of Anya’s grip. “So behave like the honorable knight you’re supposed to be—"

“Honor? That’s rich talk coming from a child who cannot understand the damage she is doing,” Anya said. “Grow up. And stay _away_ from Lexa. You’re breaking her heart and putting the lives of your people at risk. If you truly love her, if your immature brain can reason what love is, then do what is best for the woman you love and leave her alone.” At Clarke’s silence, Anya continued. “Are you stupid as well as reckless?” Anya laughed in disbelief. “We can all see it, you know. Only dense idiots with no experience in the real world, like the three of you royal idiots, can’t tell that you and Lexa are hopelessly infatuated with the other.”

At Anya’s words, Clarke took a step back. “Did...she say as much? That she is infatuated with me?” She asked, feeling her cheeks grow hot. She had wondered, questioned, even hoped, but the admission still shocked her.

Anya rolled her eyes. “You are a blind fool,” she shook her head. “Stay away from her before you hurt her for real.” 

“But she already must be hurting, to sleep with some woman…” Clarke trailed off, feeling shame, but clenched her jaw once more. “But that is _your_ doing; not mine. I will not take responsibility for pushing Lexa into feeling the need to find drunken companionship while she is hurt.”

“Fitting; you take responsibility for nothing you do, like the petulant, spoiled princess you are.”

“And you claim to be her friend, too? When you can rile her up to the extent of drinking—which she does not do—and having an affair with someone who means nothing to her?” Clarke scoffed. “If you make the claim that I must not care about her, then you must care even less than I. _I_ would never push her to the limits she went to this night.”

“But _you_ did, Clarke.” Anya shook her head and brushed by Clarke, beginning to walk away. After a moment, she paused, turning to face Clarke once more. “All I did was spell out exactly what your _friendship,_ since you two are so in denial of calling it what it truly is, is putting at stake. If you truly believe to be her friend; if you truly are in love with her, stay away.” The intense stare between the two went on for several moments longer, before Anya softened an almost imperceptible amount. “You know if the roles were reversed; if it was Lexa, engaged to someone else but in love with you, that she would do the right thing. She would suffer for the sake of her people. She would keep you _safe_ by choosing not to love you. Are you willing to do the same, to do your duty as future queen, to keep your people safe? To keep _her_ safe?” Anya clenched her jaw, her eyes never leaving Clarke’s, even as Clarke’s eyes welled with hot tears. “Growing up is never easy. Coming to terms with the lives that people like you and her lead makes it even harder. I’m sorry, Clarke, but this is your reality. Loving Lexa will only hurt you, her, and all of our people. Sometimes...we must bear pain, so others do not have to.” She gave Clarke a nod, almost respectful despite everything that had passed between them, and slipped past the young princess without another word.

Clarke listened as Anya’s footsteps faded, marching into the guest quarters Lexa had provided for her. Only when it was silent, did Clarke allow the tears to fall down her cheeks, running past her lips as she let out a shuddering breath.

* * *

The next morning, Clarke found herself lounging by the lake, watching Aden and a few knights in Aden’s guard practice their archery skills. She would not seek out Lexa, herself, this morning, though it was too unbearably lonely to be alone with her confused feelings. She lay reclined beneath a shady oak tree, the book in her lap forgotten as she watched an older guard, probably around her father’s age, expertly land his arrow in the middle of the target. Clarke clapped politely, returning the man’s smile as he bowed his head in thanks towards her, before turning to instruct the prince further, his arms gesturing towards the target. Clarke watched how Aden nodded intently, listening closely to whatever instruction his guard gave. 

“Princess?” Her title was carried on the wind, and that familiar voice chilled Clarke more than any morning breeze could. “May I sit with you?”

Clarke gestured vaguely to her side, not looking up to meet Lexa’s eyes. She scooted away, inching towards the edge of the picnic blanket she was resting upon, further under the shade of the oak tree. She kept her eyes trained on Aden’s form as he attempted, once more, at hitting the center target. He was much closer this time, Clarke mused, watching as Aden grunted in frustration, his head falling back as the knight clapped him on the shoulder and offered words of encouragement. 

“Clarke, can we talk about last night?”

“What is there to talk about, Lexa?” Clarke asked, finally turning to look at Lexa. Today, her blouse was buttoned to the neck, no doubt to hide the marks Clarke had already seen. “You came home, a little drunk but overall alright. I helped you get to bed, and now, it’s tomorrow.” She offered a tight-lipped smile. “That’s all that happened.”

Clarke could see the way Lexa’s eyes fell, sadness sweeping her expression. “Clarke, I feel I must defend myself; I never intended—"

“There’s no need to defend yourself against me, Lexa,” Clarke said. “I’m not betrothed to _you_ ,” the words hang heavy between them. After a long pause, Clarke continued, “Thus, you may share your bed with whomever you please.”

Lexa swallowed; Clarke watched the way the muscles in Lexa’s jaw tensed as she thought, concentrating. “It meant nothing to me, you should know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Clarke shook her head, looking away. “Why should I know that, Lexa?”

Lexa took a deep breath. “You know why.”

Clarke refused to meet her eyes. “I do,” she whispered. “I spoke with Anya.” Lexa was stunned into silence, watching Clarke’s small frame, her blonde curls rustling in the gentle breeze. “And I no longer wish to discuss this. We are friends,” Clarke once more looked back at Lexa. “We will be sisters in a few years. There is no need to have this conversation; I’ve hurt you enough, it seems. Please do not make me do it anymore.”

Lexa let out a shaky breath, and Clarke swore she saw the woman’s eyes fill with tears. If they had, Lexa blinked them away hastily, clearing her throat. “May I...at least know if the affections are— _were —_returned?”

Clarke bit her bottom lip, eyes glancing between Lexa’s and the locket around her neck. “Do you really need to ask?” Lexa smiled a little at that, ducking her head as she stared down at the grass below them. “I’m sorry, Lexa.” Clarke cleared her throat, squinting and shaking her head, before saying, “Commander.” Lexa glanced back up at that, confusion in her eyes.

“What?” Lexa asked, and Clarke swore she could hear the shatter of Lexa's heart beneath her locket.

“Well, that will be your title, soon enough,” Clarke shrugged. “I know you despise the title of princess and your birth name, so I will not call you either; but I fear calling you Lexa will be far too intimate for me, at present.” Lexa’s eyes fell once more as she nodded once. Clarke saw the muscles in Lexa’s jaw tighten and release, a sure sign that Lexa was trying not to show how upset she was. Clarke hesitated for a moment before placing a gentle hand on Lexa’s knee. Suddenly, Anya’s words rang loudly in Clarke’s mind. “I will bear this pain, so nobody else has to. Please, go be happy. You have a bright life ahead of you, with a possibility for love once Aden and I take the throne. We will not punish you for happiness of any kind. This was...good, but all good times must come to an end. I do not wish to further hurt you, nor do I wish to ever bring harm to your brother.”

Lexa brought one of her own hands to Clarke’s, resting it on top of the smaller, more delicate hand beneath hers. “A possibility for love?” Lexa chucked a little at that, eyes locking with Clarke’s. “After knowing you? Never,” she said. She tried to smile, to make it sound funny, but those words slipping from Lexa’s lips made Clarke feel as though she had taken a sword to her chest.

“Lexa,” Clarke whispered, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Commander. Anya was correct. I was childish to let this go on; I should have known better, and kept you out of my mess.”

“What’s done is done,” Lexa said, pulling her hand away and sitting up straighter. “And I am just as much to blame. I think I will return to Polis today. Perhaps it would suit us both.”

“May I still write to you?” Clarke asked, watching as Lexa stood. The future commander towered over her, offering a hand for Clarke to take to stand, as well. Clarke did as much, and soon, she was only inches from Lexa’s face. 

“Of course, Clarke,” Lexa nodded. After a pause of hesitation, Lexa continued. “Of course, Princess. You are still my dear friend,” she smiled, bringing her free hand, not still holding Clarke’s, up to cradle the side of Clarke’s face. “Nothing can change that.”

“When will I see you next?”

“Perhaps it would be best to wait until my ascension ceremony in July,” Lexa said. “I have much to accomplish before then, and I will be travelling to train. Though, you are more than welcome as a guest in the palace whenever you please,” she hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking over to the training grounds and then back to Clarke, “to see Aden.”

Clarke’s own gentle smile fell, but she nodded regardless. “You have my thanks,”

Lexa nodded, moving back. Her fingers traced the edge of Clarke’s soft jaw before falling to her side, her other hand gently slipping out of Clarke’s. After a moment, Lexa reached into her pocket, pulling out a familiar silver chain, holding it up for Clarke to see. “I found this in the reading room this morning,” Lexa said softly, handing it over to Clarke. “Please; this is selfish of me to ask, but it pains me to see your chest so bare. If you cannot have my real heart, I will be satisfied knowing you at least wear my heart of silver.”

Clarke nodded, reaching for the necklace with shaky hands. “Why does this feel as though you are breaking up with me?” She asked, a watery laugh coming forth as a hot tear slipped down her cheek. 

As Clarke grabbed the necklace, Lexa delicately held Clarke's hand between her own, before bending forward and placing a gentle kiss to Clarke’s knuckles. “Perhaps we feel as such, because it is as such.”

The whispered words hung between them. “I’m sorry, Lexa. But Anya was right. If we were to remain on the same course, I will only hurt you and my people, and I cannot let that happen.”

“I know; that’s why I—” Lexa began, her hands tightening around Clarke’s before letting go of her hand all together. Lexa stood up a little straighter, bringing her hands clasped behind her back. “That’s why you’re you.”

Hurt sparkled in Clarke’s eyes, and she knew Lexa could see it. Regardless, Clarke understood. She could not say the words either. “Well, I will only wear this on one condition, Commander,” 

Lexa’s head titled in confusion. “What is that?”

“You must continue to wear my heart of gold, as well.” She smiled up at Lexa, glancing between Lexa’s eyes and the locket protruding from under her shirt.

“Always.” Lexa whispered, leaning closer to Clarke. “I promise.” She rested her forehead against Clarke’s for only a second before pulling away, taking several steps back. “I must go pack. Anya will be prepared to go at a moment’s notice, so, for now, this is goodbye.”

“Don’t say that,” Clarke said, her eyebrows furrowing as she watched the emotion leave Lexa; her stoic and rigid exterior, the façade she held around everyone _but_ Clarke, settled onto her features. 

“May we meet again, Clarke,” Lexa nodded once. Clarke thought she could see a hint of a tear in the corner of Lexa’s eye; she swore she saw it cascade down Lexa’s cheek just as she turned. And in an instant, for the second time that day, Clarke was left alone in tears once more, nothing but the cold metal of the locket in her hand to keep her company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is a shorter chapter, but I wanted to really emphasize the emotional aspect of this relationship on clexa, and I thought useless fluff/pointless plot would do a disservice to this chapter and all of the heartbreak they're both feeling. Now that the girls know what is at stake -- or, recognize and accept it, rather, as they've always known what their little flirtations could lead to -- and now that they both have confronted their feelings and accept that their feelings cannot be acted on, the real plot plot can begin. 
> 
> Get ready for the yearning! Thank you all for sticking with the long delays between chapters; you're all so amazing and understanding and kind. This pandemic is certainly stifling my creativity, so I do apologize 1) for the delay, and 2) for the length. Next chapter, we'll start heading back around the ~10k I shoot for each chapter to be! And get ready for more angst, action, and Clarke becoming a bit of a badass...but I won't spoil too much ;)
> 
> Please consider leaving a review to let me know what you think! I would be honored to chat with you all about this beloved story of mine :) As always, you can find me @legendofbisexuals on tumblr as well. Let me know down below...should I make a twitter page? I know a lot of writers have a twitter where they interact with their readers/post sneak peeks/headcanon etc. Would you be interested in that?
> 
> ALSO, if you're a catradora fan, go check out my new fic! If you love angst like I do, you might want to give it a try ;) sorry for the freakishly long a/n, but I hope you all are staying healthy, prioritizing your mental health, and staying strong. I am ALWAYS here to talk to you if you need someone to listen.


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